A Matter of Timing
by preciselypotter
Summary: Worn out from a war she's been fighting for too long, Lily Evans agrees to spend a year teaching at Hogwarts. What she finds there is not only a temporary reprieve from the battlefield but also the whirlwind that will change the course of her life. AU.
1. Of Surprises and Sabbaticals

_This story is a fan-created work of fiction and is not sold or distributed for profit. J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Bloomsbury Press, and Warner Bros. retain all intellectual copyrights for the _Harry Potter _series and all characters therein. Any characters found in this story that are not property of _Harry Potter_ are created by the author. No copyrights were harmed in the making of this story. Stay classy friends._

* * *

**A Matter of Timing**

**Chapter One  
****Of Surprises and Sabbaticals**

When Lily Evans opened the creaky, paint-flecked door of her flat that Saturday afternoon, she expected to see Timothy Alder standing in front of her with a box in hand and a rude expression. She expected to trade insults and unreturned items after their break-up five days (seven hours, thirty-three minutes) ago. She expected to stand in a corner and seethe at the sight of him in her bedroom as he touched things he no longer had any right to touch.

She did not see Tim.

Instead, Albus Dumbledore was waiting politely on Lily's doormat for her to invite him in.

To say she was in shock was a little less than the truth. Lily hadn't showered that morning, her dark red hair was in a sloppy bun at the nape of her neck, and she was still clad in her baggy pyjama bottoms. Nothing about her appearance said "presentable."

"You look wonderful," Dumbledore said politely.

"Er…" She looked around wildly. "Would you, er, like to come in?"

"Indeed I would," he said.

It was as if she'd invited him to enter the most prestigious home in all of Great Britain, and when he stepped over the threshold into her dingy little flat it was with the utmost reverence. The headmaster didn't even seem to notice the piles of books on the floor, the strewn pillows, or the other various items tossed haphazardly around the place.

He did, however, wave his wand to remove some broken glass from a chair before sitting down.

Lily gasped when she saw this. "Professor, I'm so sorry," she rushed to say. "I was—there was something—never mind that."

She raised her own wand and set about tidying up the usually impeccable sitting room, repairing the vase she'd shattered and setting her possessions to right.

"If I might inquire as to the state of your home…" Dumbledore began with some concern.

"Oh, er, I haven't been here for a few days. I only just got home last night. Tea?" she suggested in an effort to distract him.

"Please, and with sugar."

When Lily found her way to the kitchen, she spent a few seconds cursing herself before tapping the kettle with her wand. She hadn't _meant_ to make her sitting room such a mess when Timothy had dropped her so horribly. Her hands had just kept grabbing things and throwing them at his head. If she'd known the most powerful and respected wizard in the world might be stopping by…well, she might have cleaned up a bit.

The kettle whistled, and she Summoned tea bags and chinaware. The china was a bit dusty—for an English girl, Lily was woefully lax in her teatime habits.

"Sorry, I haven't anything that nice," she apologised when she emerged from the kitchen.

"My dear Miss Evans, there's no need to put yourself out on my account," Dumbledore told her. "Please, sit."

She moved to the chair across from him and waited for him to speak.

The headmaster took an agonisingly long sip of tea, and she watched him all the while.

"How have you been?" he inquired.

"I've been…well." It was true, in a general sense.

"I understand you recently won an award from the Committee of Experimental Charms for your invention."

"That I did," Lily said, a bit of pride shining through.

Dumbledore took another sip. "I've actually come to talk to you about a pair of very different offers. The first concerns Professor Flitwick."

"Is he alright?"

"He's perfectly fine," the headmaster reassured her. "Except he has become a little worn out after teaching for thirty years. Filius has confided in me that he truly loves teaching and he isn't quite ready to retire, so he has decided to take a sabbatical and explore the Andes Mountains in South America."

Lily blinked, unsure if she'd heard him correctly.

"A sabbatical?"

"He wishes to study the ancient Incan charms; apparently some of them are immensely powerful," said Dumbledore with a light smile.

She tried to wrap her head around that idea, and when she did a faint flood of jealousy ran through her. Studying Incan magic was something _she'd_ wanted to do for ages. In fact, it was Flitwick who had sparked the idea in her in the first place.

At last she managed, "That's unexpected."

"I suppose it might be to you, yes," agreed the old headmaster. "You've not been around for our new batch of students."

"Are they…" Lily felt bad saying this, "Er, particularly dim?"

He laughed. "No, no; rather bright, I daresay. We've just got a few troublemakers on our hands."

"And—I'm sorry, but I don't understand why you're telling me all of this."

"I'm here to ask if you'll step in as Charms professor while Filius is away, of course," he said, as if her question was quite ridiculous.

Lily wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.

"Charms professor?"

"Filius wouldn't take anyone else," Dumbledore told her with a twinkle in his eye. "And I have to support him wholeheartedly on his choice. You've become a rather commendable witch in the last seven years, Miss Evans. Not to take away from your time at Hogwarts, of course."

"Professor—"

"Miss Evans, you are no longer my student," he interrupted her kindly. "Therefore, you are most welcome to call me Albus."

She fidgeted. "I don't know if I'm quite comfortable with that, sir," she said honestly.

"If you take the job, perhaps you'll grow to be comfortable with it," Dumbledore suggested.

Charms professor? Her? Lily couldn't fathom the reasoning. Yes, perhaps she was Gryffindor Prefect for her year, and yes, perhaps she'd done tutoring on a regular basis for Charms, and yes, she _did_ get awarded Head Girl, and maybe, just maybe, she had the ability to manage the Head Boy and Prefects…

But she'd never dealt with snotty, sullen, hormonal teenagers on a grand scale. That was vastly outside her skill set.

"They'd eat me alive," she confessed.

In a most un-Dumbledore manner, the headmaster snorted in amusement.

"It's true," insisted Lily. "I was never any good with my peers at that age; it took me six years to make more than one friend at Hogwarts, and that was only after I called my first friendship quits. And besides, I'm Muggle-born; there's no way some of the students will ever respect me—" She had no good reason for outlining all of her flaws and defects for him, but Lily felt as if she should go through all of them in a detailed list.

He didn't allow her. "As I remember it," Dumbledore said over the sounds of her rambling excuses, "you were a responsible, relatable Head Girl many of the younger students looked up to, not to mention your peer group. It's one of the reasons I appointed you Prefect and Head Girl in the first place."

She stared.

"Furthermore," he continued, "while I don't wish to sound callous, teaching students does not always mean befriending them. A professor needs to toe the line between work and fun. I learned best as a student not from the most lax professors but from the most insistent."

"I'm only twenty-four," Lily said in a small voice.

Really, she was five weeks away from twenty-five, but it was such a small difference and her point was still the same.

"I remember," Dumbledore chuckled. "And hopefully your students will notice as well."

"What do you—" she understood his meaning. "Sorry, you want teenage blokes to ogle me in class?"

"Young wizards are infinitely more likely to pay attention in class with you instructing them," he said with a mock air of solemnity. But Lily caught the wicked gleam in his eye and knew part of his comment was in jest.

"I haven't said yes," she reminded him. "I've a job at the Ministry. You know how important it is."

She was alluding to the war waging in the Wizarding world, the war between Lord Voldemort and his Followers. It had been going on for years, shortly after Lily had got out of school in fact, but in the last two years or so the manner had switched from stealthy and shrouded to an all out assault on wizards and Muggles alike. The death toll had been mounting and Lily had endured many sleepless nights pulling double shifts.

Dumbledore was well aware of Voldemort—or as most people called him, You-Know-Who. The kindly old headmaster was the greatest voice of the opposition and rumored as the only wizard the self-proclaimed Dark Lord ever feared. He should have known better than anyone that Lily's job with the Ministry was a position she should not give up lightly.

"I am aware."

"You…you understand, don't you?" Suddenly she felt terrible for protesting.

"I admire your devotion to the cause," Dumbledore said. "And that's the other matter I wished to discuss. Perhaps it will help convince you to take the first offer."

Lily sat up.

The headmaster took another sip of tea before saying, "In the last few years, I have been forming a resistance group, one that works mostly in secrecy and subterfuge. The Ministry can't be everywhere at once, as you well know, and—forgive me for saying this—they don't always have the best information."

She nodded. "I can attest to that, sir."

"I want you to join me."

"In this…group?" Lily held her breath.

"I call it the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore said proudly. "It has a rather grand ring to it, don't you think?"

"Er…yes, it's lovely," she answered.

He grinned at her expression. "Don't be mistaken, Miss Evans; our work has helped the Ministry more than many of the people working there know. Some of them do; you'd be surprised at who has joined the Order since its inception."

"And, for some reason, you want me to add to that number."

"You underestimate your own value," the headmaster told her. "Independent of your own impressive skill set, your position with the both the Muggle Liaisons office and the Magical Law Enforcement Squad is valuable to the Order. With your connections and resources we could gain more inside information on the Ministry's movements."

Lily stiffened. "I'm loyal to the Ministry, sir."

"What we do is largely in the Ministry's best interests," replied Dumbledore. "I understand your reservations but I can assure you I wouldn't ask you to do anything…untoward."

"How would I be able to assist you with my job if I'm teaching Charms at Hogwarts?"

"I require another professor among my ranks," he said bluntly. "With Filius gone, only Professor McGonagall, the gamekeeper, and I are among the Order at the school. If there were an attack I would need to rely on several of my professors to defend the students. And when the year is up your position in the Ministry will be restored and those connections I spoke of will become infinitely useful."

She frowned a little, thinking heavily on this new information. According to Dumbledore, there was a lot of good she could do in this specific group. She could make a difference, however small, in the war effort. But the idea of teaching at Hogwarts was still daunting. Lily wondered if the offers weren't mutually inclusive, if she could accept one but not the other. Somehow she doubted it.

"Could I think on it?" Lily asked tentatively.

"Of course," he said. "But I need your response by the twenty-third of the month or I'll be hard-pressed to find another substitute professor. You can send me an owl."

"That's in five days," she exclaimed.

"I urge you to think hard on your decision, then," said the headmaster. "And, I should hope this goes without saying, but this conversation needs to remain private."

Lily bit her lip. "Could I talk about the…official job offer?"

He nodded and stood. "Thank you for the tea—I think."

She stifled a laugh. "I promise next time I'll have better to offer."

With another twinkle of his eyes, Dumbledore swept out of the flat and left Lily to her thoughts.

* * *

The next day, when Lily came back into work, she stood in the Atrium for a minute and watched the flow of people as they went to the lifts or popped out of the Floo grates. For a few seconds they all appeared to be moving as one fluid being, all walking to the same step. There was unity and understanding, even with the chaos that soaked the air.

She eyed each individual face, wondering who was among Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. He'd said there were operatives inside the Ministry. Who did she suspect? And who would she least likely suspect?

Obviously Alastor Moody. Everyone knew he and Dumbledore were old friends. And Edgar Bones was likely, considering how he supported Dumbledore vocally at any given opportunity. But the rest? No, the faces of the Ministry were a mystery one way or the other.

Lily sighed and joined the throng headed up towards the second floor, where she officially worked, avoiding the Strip on her way.

It was not uncommon for Ministry officials to have two jobs. These days all hands were on deck. Lily's set were both related to her Muggle-born status. Her primary operation was serving on the M.L.E. Squad if there were attacks on Muggle areas. Her ability to understand Muggle reactions and technology made her a great asset to the team, especially when moving in stealth.

Her other responsibility? That fell in the same line. She worked closely with the Muggle Liaisons office to come up with Muggle-worthy excuses to some of Lord Voldemort's attacks, also moonlighting as public relations for the families of Muggle-borns and any other Muggles aware of the Wizarding world.

She had yet to meet the Prime Minister, though.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was, as usual, filled with people running around and owls flying everywhere. Lily narrowly avoided getting shoved to the floor by a set of Aurors passing through.

"There's a group of them!" one was shouting. "We've got to move, now! Get someone from Reg. and Control on hand!"

"I sent an owl already," replied another, this one a rather harried looking witch.

Lily watched them pass, a little confused at why the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was on call.

Someone came up behind her. "Giants," said Cassie Delaney in her ear. "Six, or so I heard. Might be less."

"Where?" Lily asked, her heart thumping a bit faster.

"Up in Scotland," Cassie told her. "A couple miles outside Hogsmeade. I think Dumbledore was the one who found them."

"That's frightening, that they're so close to the school," she said. "I mean, with their immunity to protective spells they might just get into the school grounds."

Her dark-haired friend shrugged. "Students went home Saturday; there's only a handful left for the winter hols."

"Still…"

The Aurors finally made their way out of the office and to the lift. Every face was tense; dealing with giants was far different than with the Followers. It took at least four Aurors working in conjunction to even affect one giant. She lifted her hand in a gesture of farewell and luck as the lift descended.

Cassie let out a breath and followed Lily as she made her way to her cubicle. "That's a way to start the morning off," she joked hollowly.

"Why aren't you with them?" Lily asked. "I'd have thought you'd relish a fight before breakfast."

"I'm not one for something that can step on me," the Auror said with a crinkle of her nose. "And besides, it was hand pick this round. My set didn't get called. I'm blaming Moody for that—I think he's soft on me or something."

"Moody doesn't know _how_ to be soft," she retorted. In a softer voice, she added, "Hey, thanks for letting me kip on your couch the last few days. I just couldn't go back there, you know? Not after everything with Tim. I bought new sheets and all for the bed when I got home."

Her friend shrugged. "Fabian said I should. And since it's his flat and everything—"

"Don't tease, Delaney, I mean it," Lily warned. "Thanks."

"I kept telling you, you'd be well shot of him," said Cassie. "You didn't listen."

"Yeah, I know, you're always right and I should listen to you because otherwise I'll experience pain and misery beyond my darkest nightmares," she repeated dryly. "What's done is done, though. Bloody coward hasn't even stopped by to get his things. I chucked them all in the trash, so if he does come by he'll have a hard time getting the smell out."

"That's a Ravenclaw for you," Cassie told her with a grin. "No loyalty, no ambition, and certainly no courage."

Lily snorted. "You're prejudiced."

"On account of being Hufflepuff? Of course I am. We always got flak from the Ravenclaws for not being smart enough even when we beat them at tests."

They reached Lily's cubicle where both her owl Angelia and a set of letters, the _Daily Prophet_ stacked atop them, were waiting for her. Angelia gave her a reproachful eye, expecting some kind of reward. Lily pulled a few treats out of her pocket and held them out for the tawny to take, looking back at Cassie to continue their conversation.

"You got flak from Barney Lowell; try not to generalise."

"I can't help it if he spoke for the rest of his House."

"No one holds a grudge like you, Cas. Wild Hippogriffs tremble at the sight." Angelia finished with the treats and flew over to her perch while Lily sat down. "Speaking of Hogwarts, though, I have to tell you—Dumbledore came by my flat yesterday."

"He…he did?" Cassie lost her composure for a second.

She frowned at this lapse in her friend's usually unshakeable front. "Yeah. He offered me a job at school."

This earned her a laugh. "What, as the new Defence professor?" said the Auror. "They haven't kept that position filled for more than a set of terms, so I hear. Not for a few years now. Must be some shoddy professor Dumbledore's been sorting through. You'll do good, I reckon. Good on you, Evans."

"Not Defence," Lily said, scowling at the thought. "Charms."

Cassie sat in the empty seat in the corner. "Why? What's happened to Flitwick?"

She began flipping through her mail and said, "Nothing. He's off to Peru for a year, and he wants me to step in. Isn't that barmy?"

"Actually," her friend said slowly, "I think it's perfect."

Lily raised her eyebrows.

"Honest!" Cassie insisted. "I mean, you were always great at Charms in school—beat me out of best marks in that class—and since then, well, your spell speaks for itself. You actually managed to get our side a little bit of advantage. I mean, granted, it's all secret and stuff because of infiltration risk, but the people who can actually use it get an edge on the Followers. I've used it a fair bit myself, saved my lovely round buttocks a couple of times."

"And saving your lovely round buttocks qualifies me as a good Charms professor, does it?"

"What better qualification is there?"

She sighed. "I don't think it's for me. I'm not the professor sort."

"Take the job, Evans," snapped Cassie.

"There's no way I can pull it off. No possible—hang on…" She paused at one letter.

"What?" demanded her friend. "What is it?"

"Muggle post," Lily said, on the whole rather distracted. "From my sister."

She'd given the blokes down in Muggle Liaisons Office instructions to send all Muggle post for her to her office ages ago on the off chance that Petunia might send her some sort of letter, although Lily had given up hope she'd ever receive contact from her sister again. The years after Lily left Hogwarts had only increased their dissonance rather than heal the wounds wielded by magic despite all her hopes to the contrary.

But here in her hand was a letter, stamped and sealed. It was a very nice one, too; the envelope was thick paper and cream-coloured, and lovely gold-inlaid letters addressing her as "Ms Lily Adelaide Evans" along with her last known address. She'd moved twice since then.

With eager hands she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a fancy…wedding invitation.

"She's getting married," Lily breathed. "Married! I don't even know the man."

"Who'd want to marry Petunia?" scoffed Cassie. She instantly looked contrite when Lily shot her a glare.

"It says here she's marrying a Vernon Dursley," she read aloud. "On June tenth of next year."

"Isn't that a bit soon to be sending out invites? I mean, what if she changes her mind in the next six months?"

Lily waved this off. "I can't believe she actually invited me." She looked up mischievously. "Be my date, love?"

Her friend snorted. "Fab won't stand for that."

"I can't go alone," she protested. "If I show up all by my lonesome, Petunia will make nasty remarks the whole time." Lily could see the smug, vindictive look on her sister's face already, knowing Petunia would take joy in the fact that she finally had something Lily didn't. And it would hurt.

She loved Petunia, she truly did, but her sister could be a truly bitter person sometimes. Part of that was Lily's own doing, and she knew that. She knew what being left out of the spotlight in favor of a brighter star could do to a person.

"How about this," Cassie proposed. "You take Gid, and Fab and I can double date."

"Brilliant," she said, considering the ever-entertaining Prewett twins. "Do you know where he is?"

"Both Gid and Fab are hunting down Peridenn. Crouch got a tip, wanted to get them on it."

For the first time all morning, even what happened with the giants near Hogsmeade, Cassie's face showed actual concern.

Lily and Cassie had been friends for a little over ten years now, and in that time she'd never seen Cassie so much as bat an eye at the legions of blokes fawning over her except for one Fabian Prewett. The road to their relationship had been filled with constant attempts on Fabian's part to woo his unshakeable coworker, winning her over after nearly a year of effort. Two years on, and Lily was half expecting Cassie's last name to change from Delaney to Prewett.

"He'll be fine," Lily reassured her friend. "Gid and Fab can't be taken down when they're together."

"I know." Cassie checked the clock. "I've a meeting with Moody. We'll talk later - and for Merlin's sake, woman, take the damn job at school." She gave Lily a quick squeeze on the shoulder before exiting the cubicle.

Lily grabbed a scrap bit of parchment and scribbled hastily, _Gid— escort me to my sister's wedding, will you? –Lil_. She stood and left her desk to drop the note off.

By lunchtime there had been three more sets of Aurors dispatched from the Ministry. One of them was sent to assist the group dealing with the giants, and when Lily heard this she wondered hollowly if one of their number had died. The other two were sent to deal with an attack in Diagon Alley. Since Lily was on call for Muggle-related incidents, all she could do was sit at her desk and hope Cassie's set would be alright.

Aurors worked differently than the Squad. A set of Aurors consisted of four, usually one senior and one third-year trainee or a newly graduated in the mix. The Squad operated in groups of eight, all with similar qualifications and given a specific task. One member was elected Squad Leader through Crouch, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Lily was part of First Muggle Squad. There were three squads for Muggle situations, but she'd managed to get into the lead group through persistence and skill.

With nothing to do—the most terrible part of a war—Lily sifted through her mail and listened in on the Auror offices to determine what was happening. She tried to find out if the Prewetts had caught Peridenn (one of Voldemort's Followers) or if the giants had been rounded up, but there was no news. Finally she gave up and headed down to the third level to check in with Gaius Horner, her unofficial boss.

The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was only slightly less busy than the D.M.L.E above it. Technically, this department had no official bodies to go out in wartime situations, but the Muggle Squads reported to both Departments.

Mr Horner was hurriedly writing a letter with a ball point pen on regular paper, something Lily found most amusing. He glanced up when she knocked.

"There you are," he said in relief.

"Were you looking for me?"

"Yeah, I need you to drop this in the post, alright? The Muggle post. It's very important."

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

Mr Horner signed his name and tapped the paper, causing it to fold itself into a nice envelope. "Not for your eyes, Evans. I'm sorry, but—"

"But you can't say," finished Lily. "I know."

He smiled at her in apology. "I don't mean to be a stick-in-the-mud. The Minister doesn't have a lot of time on his hands right now to address letters to Muggle officials so he asks me, and I can't very well go around telling anyone who will listen–"

She held up a hand. "You don't need to explain it to me," she told him kindly.

Mr Horner gave her a wide grin. "You're one of the good ones around here, Evans. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Just wondering if there was something I could do for _you_," said Lily. "I'm getting restless."

"Hmm…well, after that letter I'd like you to head up to level one and give this communiqué"–he handed Lily a roll of parchment—"to the Junior Undersecretary. I need the Minister's response by the end of the day so make that clear. And if you're still free after that, get Maintenance to fix Weston's office."

"What's wrong with Weston's office?" she asked, and then winced at the tongue-twister she'd spit out.

"It's windy in there. Paper's flying everywhere, his owl in a tizzy, chairs falling over–"

"Shouldn't we get someone on that first?"

He shrugged. "Let the man try to fix it himself. It'd be good for him to lift a wand for something more than Summoning food for a change."

Lily gave him a reproachful look. "You're a bad man," she said. "Truly, positively—"

"Off with you," Mr Horner commanded with a playful air. "Go deliver my letter."

She sniffed delicately in his direction before leaving the office, letter in hand.

The post room was adjacent to the Muggle Liaisons office. Lily always found it amusing that Muggle post was classified under Accidents and Catastrophes because she couldn't think of anything more harmless. The worst someone could do was put confetti in an envelope.

But far be it from her to judge the Ministry's organization, though. She dropped the letter in the box, waved at a couple of the workers she recognized, and then mentally steeled herself on her way to the lifts to reach level one.

Several people shouted greetings as she made walked along the hallway to the Minister for Magic's offices. The closer she got, the higher ranked the officials were. By the time she could see the gold plaque bearing the inscription "Timothy Alder, Junior Undersecretary" on the door before her, no one was calling her name or smiling in greeting. They were all too busy acting self-important.

She knocked on the door, a sense of dread seeping into her bones.

"Come in," she heard Tim say.

Lily opened the door and paused in the doorway.

Tim leaned forward in his chair, a look of surprise and…was that relief or anxiety? She couldn't tell. She did see that he wasn't angry at her.

"Lily," he said softly. "I didn't think I'd see you for a while."

"Mr Horner wanted me to give you this communiqué for the Minister," she said brusquely. She walked forward to drop the sheet on his desk, and he stood.

"Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

Tim gave her a look, one she could actually read. "What you always do. When you pretend everything's fine when it isn't."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said firmly.

"Thus proving my point." His expression grew irritated. "We need to talk, Lil."

"I think we both already said everything we needed to say," Lily told him. She let the parchment fall to the desk, watching as it fluttered on the air rather than look her ex-boyfriend in the eye. "Mr Horner wants a response by the end of the day, if that's possible."

Before she could turn away, Tim grabbed her wrist. "_You_ said everything you needed to say; I didn't get one word in."

She pulled away. "You got plenty of words in, Tim. If you recall, that's what broke us up."

"I love you."

"And that's a good reason to drop me, is it?" Lily had never been so angry at someone in her life—except for the once, with Severus.

Tim rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I mucked up."

"I'll say you did."

"Would you let me speak?" he snapped. She waited. "I was scared, Lil. I've never had these feelings for anyone before and I wanted to run away from them. I want you to know I'm sorry, and I really do love you."

Lily gaped. "Oh, no. You didn't just say that. You couldn't possibly have said that."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

She scoffed and turned away for a second, before facing him again and snapping, "For Merlin's sake, Tim, you told me you wanted to _shag_ Mary Donovan from Reg. and Control! You also let slip you couldn't possibly marry me because I'm Muggle-born and you're only interested in pedigree. If you can't marry me in a hypothetical sense, then clearly you can't be with me in any sense."

"I was trying to push you away," Tim said hotly. "And it was horrible of me to say what I did. I can't make that right. All I can do is apologise but you won't let me!"

"And what?" She wanted so very much to hex him. "You apologise, and what? I forgive you, I take you back, we go through a year of heartache and torture and then finally decide to call it quits? Sorry, I'd like to skip a few exits on that highway if you don't mind."

Tim looked confused. "Highway?"

Evidence of his magical upbringing was never more apparent than when she spoke in colloquialisms. Lily sighed and didn't bother to explain.

"What I mean is I'd rather not go through all that."

"Despite what I said, I _would_ like to marry you someday, and I've no interest in Mary Donovan." When Lily raised her eyebrows, he hastily added, "Sure, she's absolutely gorgeous and something would be terribly wrong with me if I _didn't_ want to shag her, but my point is I wouldn't. Not when I'm with you. Not while I love you."

Lily felt her resolve weakening, but only a by little. "You _dropped_ me."

"Yeah, yeah I did," he agreed. "I was afraid of my feelings for you, I was afraid of losing you because of your job—"

"Don't start on that again."

"I can't help it if I want you to be safe!"

"I've been on the Squad much longer than I've known you—"

"And if you haven't noticed things have gotten a lot more dangerous in the past two years—"

"Clearly I'm still alive and well—"

"Because you've been lucky—"

"We're not having this discussion—"

"We never have this discussion!" Tim exploded. He lowered his voice with apparent effort. "I won't apologise for caring whether you live or die. I worry about you every time I hear your squad is out and until I know you're back and safe I can't work, I can't do anything but sit and hope to anything you'll come home in one piece."

Lily bit her lip. "Tim, I _have_ to do what I do." She didn't mention her job offer to him, one that would theoretically keep her out of the line of fire. "I can't just sit still and let the war go on around me. I can't do what you want me to do."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I understand, I suppose. I hate it, but… I have no say."

"No," she told him. "You don't."

"I'd ask if I had a shot with you, if we could try again, but I already know your answer," he said.

"You hurt me," she reminded him. "I can't be with you after you hurt me like that."

"I know."

They took a moment to really look at each other. It occurred to Lily just how tired she was of Tim. The constant arguments—the same argument over and over, really—did nothing for her anymore. She was suddenly grateful for his horrible comments during their split.

She chuckled darkly and ran a hand through her hair. "No one gets under my skin like you do, you know. It's very frustrating."

Tim smiled flatly, ducking his head. "Perhaps it's not frustrating so much as a sign."

"Of what?"

"A sign that I'm the right man for you."

Lily rolled her eyes at that. "Don't count on it."

"What else have I got to count on?" he pointed out.

"Count on the smell your things will have when you fish them out of my garbage," she suggested.

His jaw dropped open. "What did you do?"

"Goodbye, Tim," she said with a vindictive smile. She left the office with a lot less anxiety than she carried going in.

In the most logical part of her mind Lily knew that going back into a relationship with Tim would be a mistake. She hadn't been able to be in her own flat because of all the pain he'd caused. Even while they were together she'd had a fair few nights of tears and fighting, and it didn't make sense to just leap back into a dynamic so explosive and unhealthy. That logical part of her said to stay out of something she would be better off without.

There was another part of her, and that part didn't think with her head. That emotional part of her wanted to go back to the familiarity of Tim and damn the pain and heartbreak. Despite whatever he'd said Lily still had feelings for Tim, the sort of feelings that didn't just go away on a whim.

But no, she couldn't think about that. She had to ask herself what Cassie would do in this sort of situation and then take a less violent approach. If Cassie were to punch Tim in the nose, which was the most likely thing to happen, Lily would have to keep a pointed distance from her former boyfriend. Getting dragged back in was not an option, not after all the dramatics.

And right at that moment, the solution came to her.

Hogwarts.

Up in Scotland, out of the way, five days a week teaching hundreds of children in Charms class, Lily could avoid seeing Tim for as long as she wanted to. That constant presence in her life would be quite suddenly absent. It was the best way for her to avoid temptation.

There were other factors to consider, though. Leaving the front lines of the war was something she wasn't keen on, for one. For another, she would be leaving behind Cassie and Margot Keller, two of her dearest and most valuable friends, to settle in a school surrounded by former professors. She was unlikely to make friends among that set of individuals, just as she was unlikely to call Dumbledore by his first name. And she could very likely fail to attend Petunia's wedding, as it was in the middle of exam time. She couldn't risk missing an opportunity to reconnect with her sister, no matter how slim the chance might be.

But giants near Hogsmeade today…she could be on the front lines more often than the _Daily Prophet_ would have the public believe. The entire school could be in danger, and without her it would—what? She shook her head. The fate of Hogwarts did not rest on _her_ shoulders.

Lily also had to consider one simple fact; she missed Hogwarts. She missed the castle's winding and playful corridors, the Quidditch matches and feasts, the ghosts and her old professors. She hadn't seen Hagrid in years, and she used to visit him nearly every month for tea. Merlin help her, Lily even missed Peeves the poltergeist, and that curmudgeonly old caretaker Apollyon Pringle. Every miserable experience she'd been through at school had washed away with time and all that remained was nostalgia.

It was silly to base her whole choice on reminiscing. She was an adult, and adults did not make decisions on fanciful whims. Lily's lease on her flat wasn't nearly up, and how could she afford her flat on a professor's salary? If she lived at the school, as professors did, who would look after her place while she was gone?

Any way she looked at it, there were no clear answers.

* * *

"Mrs Bloome, I understand your concern," Lily tried soothingly. She reached out a hand and covered the woman's fingers lightly. "It's enough to make any parent anxious."

Inwardly, she groaned.

The timid woman clutched her handkerchief all the more and her lip trembled. "Francine told me about him, and how he hates people like her, people who are…special. She's been having nightmares about that man hurting her - she doesn't feel safe."

Beside Lily, Peter Dagley shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "There's no denying You-Know-Who is dangerous," he began. "After all, he's bested many of our law enforcement officers, and after nearly six years he's still not been apprehended—some people say he can't be killed—"

"Dagley," Lily interrupted as Mrs Bloome's eyes grew infinitely wider and more fearful, "perhaps some nice chamomile tea would do us all good."

After a pointed look from her, Dagley finally understood he was doing very little good by speaking. He cleared his throat and headed out of the sitting room toward the kitchen, surreptitiously pulling out his wand to start the water for tea, and Lily suppressed a sigh of relief.

Dagley was her official partner. If there was ever something that didn't require their full Squad, it was just the two of them. Usually they were the ones who visited Muggle homes, mostly because he was half-blood with a Muggle father and understood the world and she an outright Muggle-born - but he wasn't so adept with fragile people. This wasn't the first time he'd nearly sent someone into hysterics.

She liked Dagley quite a lot, but the man had his faults.

For the first active mission she'd been assigned to since last Friday, Lily hadn't expected it to be taking care of a distraught mother. Mrs Bloome's daughter, Francine, had only just started at Hogwarts, and the impressionable first-year had come home with tales of Voldemort and the havoc he wreaked across Britain. Lily couldn't exactly blame the small girl (were she in Francine's situation she might be just as terrified), yet the woman she sat across from was not the type she'd want to scare.

The morning light was stunted by the blinds, yet the bright, cold sunshine of winter shone through the window. Tuesday had started off much better than Monday for the Ministry, given that no major attacks had been launched anywhere in the country before lunchtime, and for that Lily was grateful.

She turned her attentions fully to Mrs Bloome once Dagley had left the room. "I apologise if he scared you."

"Oh, my daughter has already told me everything," the woman sniffled. "She gets that newspaper, you see."

"_The Daily Prophet_, you mean?"

"Yes, that one. The one with all the moving pictures." Even with her fear, Lily could see the wonder on Mrs Bloome's face at magic most witches and wizards took for granted.

"Mrs Bloome," Lily said cautiously, "what else has Francine told you?"

The handkerchief was in danger of ripping. "She said there are things like zombies, and giants, and monsters called Dementors," recounted the woman. "She said that many of the murders on the telly are because of this man, and how dangerous he is…" She let out a tiny sob.

"Shhh," soothed Lily.

After a deep breath, Mrs Bloome said, "I just don't know how I can let my daughter continue going to that school. I know she loves it there, but…"

Lily nodded sympathetically. "I know how terrible this all is. Believe me, I do. But what Francine didn't tell you is that Hogwarts is the most protected place in all of Britain. Nothing and no one, not even You-Know-Who, can break through the magical barriers around the school."

"Really?" asked the woman, shocked.

"I promise," she said. "I went there for seven years, and in that whole time nothing bad ever happened to me."

That wasn't strictly true, but Lily wasn't keen on explaining the one-time circumstance to a total stranger. Not to mention it wouldn't help her convince the woman of the security of Hogwarts.

Mrs Bloome relaxed by the smallest margin. "The school, though, it's all the way up in Scotland - so far away from help if anyone should need it—"

As Dagley came in with a tray of china and a steaming teapot, Lily reminded Mrs Bloome, "Wizards can travel across the country in the blink of an eye. There's no worry about distance in these situations. And even if help wasn't accessible, all the professors at the school are very good at their jobs."

_I might be one of them_, Lily added silently.

"Sugar?" Dagley asked quietly.

Lily waved him off. "And on top of all that, Professor Dumbledore is there."

"The Headmaster?" Mrs Bloome asked in confusion.

"Yes," she said. "Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world."

"Dumbledore's grand," agreed Dagley, finally on firm ground with this conversation. "There's no besting him. He's already defeated one Dark Wizard in his lifetime, and You-Know-Who's terrified of him. No way You-Know-Who will show up at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's Headmaster."

Mrs Bloome let out a cautious smile. "Oh, I didn't realise."

They both smiled at her. "Not to worry," assured Lily. "We both know how strange this whole experience can be."

"I just want to know my daughter is safe," she replied, finally releasing the handkerchief from her stranglehold and picking up her tea to take a dainty sip. "If I had known how dangerous all of this was, I might not have let her even attend Hogwarts in the first place."

"Of course." Lily nodded.

"And I worry about her, staying here over holidays."

"If it will help, I can put your house on a special watch list," she offered.

Dagley opened his mouth in surprise. "That's not -"

"Going to be a problem," Lily finished, smiling over her clenched teeth as she ground her heel into his toe. Dagley let out a grunt of pain, and Mrs Bloome looked at him curiously before looking back to Lily.

"That would be such a help," she said gratefully.

"Think nothing of it," Lily told her, her heel poised to attack Dagley's foot in case he spoke again. "Now, we really must be going."

As they stood, Dagley leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Evans, you can't just…" Whatever he was going to say she couldn't do, and Lily had a fair idea of what that was, was lost as Mrs Bloome shook both their hands and lead them to the door.

"Thank you so much for coming by," Mrs Bloome said for the fourth time that morning. She handed the pair of them their coats and scarves.

Lily smiled warmly. "Anything we can do, you just send another letter," she promised as she tugged on her gloves. She nodded and smiled and exchanged light pleasantries as she wound her scarf around her neck and pulled on her coat, all the while making sure Dagley didn't say a word.

Finally, Mrs Bloome opened the door to say goodbye, and Lily grabbed her partner's arm as soon as the door shut behind them and dragged him from the porch to the sidewalk hastily.

"Evans, you've got a grip like a dragon," he grumbled once she let go, rubbing his arm discontentedly.

"Are you thick?" she hissed. "Did your mum drop you on your head when you were little?"

"Me?" Dagley was affronted. "You're the one who promised her special treatment that we can't afford to hand out!"

Lily sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. "Of course I told her that! The thought of protection will do more good for her than actual bodyguards, you prat. That woman needs to be reassured, not frightened to death. Well done, by the way."

He stared. "You lied to her?"

"Obviously."

"How is that any better?"

She started walking down the sidewalk to their car. "If she believes she's safer, that's all that matters."

Dagley matched her stride, saying, "That's really low, Evans."

"The ends justify the means," Lily grumbled, despite how wrong it felt to lie to that frightened woman. It was for her own good, she reminded herself firmly. Without hearing people could look out for her, Mrs Bloome would have kept her daughter home for the next term, and possibly put Francine in more danger.

Her partner shook his head. "You're cold." He didn't sound altogether upset.

Lily shrugged. "Only sometimes. If anything, what I did today was a kindness. That little girl's not the only one having nightmares."

They reached the Ministry-issued car and Lily opened the driver's side door before Dagley could reach it. He grimaced and headed around.

"Let's grab lunch," he offered.

"It's ten-thirty."

"Brunch, then. I know a nice little place not ten minutes from here. My treat."

She stared over the car at him. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Dagley snorted, perhaps too dramatically. "A…a _date?_ What? No, not at all. I would _never_…completely unprofessional…" He trailed off and tapped his fingers on the car awkwardly. "If I was, hypothetically, what would you say?"

She couldn't help but smile a little. "Dags…"

"I know, I know," he said, throwing up his hands. "You're not interested. I just heard about Alder, though, and I thought 'why the hell not?' So, that was my go at it."

"You heard about Tim?" Lily's heart sank. Did everyone know about Tim dropping her? She was so embarrassed—what if they knew about the Mary Donovan comment? She couldn't stand it if everyone knew about that. Maybe she shouldn't worry what her coworkers thought of her, but she couldn't help it.

"Er, yeah." Dagley looked uncomfortable. "Sorry if you didn't want to talk about it."

"Oh, it's fine."

"Sure?"

She nodded. "I should have realized…the gossips don't stay at school, after all."

He smiled sympathetically. "Brunch is still on the table, if you like. Just as a partners' brunch. Not a date."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that," Lily said, and slid behind the wheel of the magically enhanced car.

* * *

The remainder of Tuesday was much the same as Monday, and Wednesday was quite similar to them both. Lily had no field work on those days, instead spending her time filing reports for the D.M.A.C. and vacillating between taking the Charms job and staying with the Ministry.

Neither of the Prewetts had returned since Monday morning, something that caused Cassie a significant amount of stress. Lily wasn't exactly calm, either; she liked Gideon and Fabian both, she worried for their safety and had to reassure not only herself but Cassie as well that the twins were some of the best Aurors around.

"But what if something went wrong," Cassie snapped at lunchtime on Thursday. "What if something awful happened and–"

"Stop that, you'll scare the civilians," said Lily.

They sat at a small corner table of the Leaky Cauldron, and while her warnings weren't entirely unfounded, no one could hear them from this position. Cassie groaned and buried her face in her hands, her fingers lacing through that thick, dark brown hair in frustration.

"I can't stop thinking of it, Lil," she admitted, voice muffled. "Every time I close my eyes I keep seeing all these horrific things happening to him."

"What would you do if I got back together with Tim?" Lily asked.

It worked. Cassie dropped her hands and stared. "Don't you bloody dare."

She shrugged. "Thought that would catch your attention."

Cassie gaped at her for a few seconds. "But you're not serious, are you? You're not so daft as to actually—"

"I'd like to hope I'm not so daft as that," said Lily. "But he makes a strong case for himself, you know. Very convincing."

"Lily Evans, if you so much as smile in that man's direction I will never speak to you again."

"Promise?"

"I'm being completely serious here," Cassie warned. "Don't think I'm not."

"Oh, I know." She grinned.

Cassie gave her a murderous glare that, were it used on someone who hadn't experienced it on a weekly basis, might have made her faint away. Instead Lily maintained her winning smile and took another bite of her chicken sandwich.

She wasn't really serious about getting back with Tim, at least not yet. The man had a horrible way of getting under her skin when she was vulnerable. Her main focus was keeping her friend from succumbing to nerves and the best way she knew to do that was through shock tactics.

Music played from the speakers placed all around the pub, a soothing jazz tune with a uniquely Wizard touch. Lily much preferred Muggle jazz but she didn't mind the song playing now. She amused herself by watching the people at the bar and making up life stories for them. If she thought it could help she'd ask Cassie to join in, but considering the mood the Auror had dropped to the stories would run along very dark lines, and she wasn't interested in hearing about grisly deaths.

There was quiet for a minute as they both ate, but the sounds of people around them made the air less tense and full of fear. Even though Diagon Alley was virtually empty as repairs from Monday's attack were being made, the Leaky Cauldron was still a place for witches and wizards to gather and talk of the latest news.

Sometimes Lily thought the tendency of humans to gather in large groups while under attack was the greatest weakness of their species, magical or no. Voldemort's followers often attacked areas with large numbers of people, after all - though she did have to admit they were loath to touch the old pub-and-inn so far. It hardly mattered, though, since Diagon Alley was hit nearly every month. She'd heard most of the residents in the lower part of the street had relocated by now.

One person in particular caught her interest; a man with long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. He looked to be around her age, if not a little older, and the little she could see of him was quite handsome. She half considered walking over and introducing herself but ultimately decided against it. Still, Lily hadn't flirted with anyone since the beginnings of her relationship with Tim and she missed the simple fun of it.

"Do you think one of them might be injured?" Cassie burst out.

Lily sighed. "Would you stop that?"

"No, I will not! My ruddy boyfriend's not been heard from in over three days," she snapped, but she didn't sound angry so much as scared.

"Your humanity is showing, love," Lily said dryly.

"Oh, is it?" Cassie released a deranged laugh. "That's unexpected, because my emotions are completely under control."

She leaned forward. "Cas, I'm only going to say this once more; you need to get yourself together and stop acting like a normal human being. Not only is it scaring the hell out of me, it's also not helping you at all. Now put on your Auror front and stop being such a helpless bint."

Her friend stared. "If I were attracted to birds I'd shag you atop the table this instant."

Lily had heard this declaration before. "Go on, I dare you." She raised her eyebrows, taunting her friend to make good.

"I hate when you call my bluffs." Cassie slumped in her seat.

"And I hate sleazy come-ons." They smiled at each other.

"Alright, you've made your point," she admitted. "Merlin knows I'd rather never admit myself wrong and you right but consider this my concession. I never knew you were so keen on my complete lack of feminine softness, though. You've played that close to the chest."

"I hate being obvious," Lily replied.

They were on the verge of breaking into full-fledged witty banter when the jazzy tune suddenly crackled with static. Lily's heart dropped into her stomach, because the only way a magical radio could encounter static was if someone deliberately interrupted the program. Judging by Cassie's expression she wasn't the only one who'd come to this conclusion.

The entire pub grew quiet as the static grew in sound. Lily glanced over and saw that Tom the bartender had turned up the sound dial, and all the patrons had ceased movement. The light air she'd been so grateful for earlier escaped the room faster than oxygen into a vacuum. Not even glasses clinked against tables. Everyone was staring at the radio as if watching the box would make the message come through sooner.

Finally a voice crackled through. "_This is an emergency announcement_." The words were spoken with a melancholy mood."_I, the Minister for Magic Cailean McKinnon, must express to the public that an attack has been made on the town Ottery St. Catchpole one hour ago. Sixteen wizards and witches are dead, including two Aurors who gave their life to protect others. Twenty-three Muggles were also killed._"

Silence became a sound. Lily's ears rang with the oppressive absence of noise.

"_We at the Ministry offer our condolences to all the families, both Muggle and magical, who have experienced losses this day. There are no words to…_" The Minister's voice broke. "_To make right this terrible day._"

Cassie reached over and grasped Lily's wrist. "He said two Aurors," she whispered, her voice tight with fear. "Two Aurors, Lil."

All Lily could do was hold her friend's hand and pray that the casualties were not the Prewett brothers - though the death of any Auror was cause for grief.

"_I have reports from some of the survivors that three masks of the Followers were torn off in the attack. We now know their identities. I urge caution to anyone connected or in the proximity of Marcus Avery, Theodore Nott, and Evan Rosier, Sr. These men are dangerous and serve V… you know of whom I speak. However, I beg the public to remain calm in light of this new information._"

The Minister's words came in good timing; the pub's silence had broken with mutters and whispers at the names, and more than a few gasps of surprise. Lily and Cassie weren't so shocked. There was a long list of names Moody had posted in the Auror briefing room listing all suspected Death Eaters, and all three names were near the top. Hearing them broadcast over the WWN was merely confirmation. All the same, Marcus Avery had been a schoolmate of theirs, even if they hadn't gotten along, and it was an unpleasant confirmation to hear.

"_I ask all of you to take a moment of silence for the lives lost today, especially for two of our protectors, Kenneth McKinnon and Dorian Diggory. We honor these men and the lives they managed to save today._"

There was quiet, then static, and then the jazz resumed, now irritatingly whimsical.

Cassie dropped her head against the table, pulling Lily's hand to her forehead. "I shouldn't feel so relieved, but I do," she murmured.

Lily stroked back the other woman's hair. She too felt that mixture of relief and guilt for that same emotion. She hadn't known Diggory at all, and Kenneth McKinnon only in passing. Her heart did go out to the Minister, though, for losing his cousin.

"Ottery St. Catchpole…" Cassie mused. She then shot straight up in her seat, grey eyes wide. "The Weasleys live there. Oh, Merlin—you know Arthur Weasley, don't you? Down the hall, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office? His wife just had their third child five months ago. She's Gid and Fab's younger sister."

"You think his wife—" she began.

"No, no, they live outside town. What I mean to say is Arthur Weasley's brothers were in the town proper."

They exchanged wide-eyed looks. Neither wanted to be the first to say it aloud.

Lily's appetite had vanished. She stood and dropped her napkin on the table, Cassie following suit hastily. Both felt the need to get back to the Ministry. Lily looked over at the blonde man at the bar (she didn't know _why_ she looked his way) but saw that he had gone.

* * *

Quiet filled the D.M.L.E.

Both women walked through the corridors with some trepidation, not wishing to disturb the scarce stillness. Occasionally eyes looked up and Lily would share a glance with an Auror or a Squad member, whether she knew them or not. The look in everyone's eyes bound them all together.

Lily felt, as she knew everyone else did, a sense of utter helplessness in the face of the Minister's announcement. If only she had been there—perhaps she could have made a difference. Perhaps she could have saved a life that had been lost.

She wanted to find Tim. She wanted his arms around her, telling her this wasn't her fault even if she didn't believe him. And she hated that she wanted it so badly.

In a flash of morbid curiosity, she began to consider what sort of Muggle-worthy excuse she would come up with this time. A rampaging hippo was the only thing she could think of at the moment. How could she explain away something so horrific? The combined death toll of wizards and Muggles reached thirty-nine. That was a lot of death for a small town like Ottery St. Catchpole. A lot of details to explain away.

Suddenly she was very tired. She was tired of lying to people who deserved the truth. She was tired of making ugly things look nice and neat and organized. She was tired of this part of her job, no matter how much she liked defending Muggles from dangers they couldn't comprehend.

Lily had finally made her decision.

She squeezed Cassie's arm, letting her friend know she was leaving. Cassie nodded, her face a mask of stone. She left and headed back to the lift so she could go down to level three. Walking back by herself was somehow more oppressive - the eyes upon her made her feel self-conscious in a way she was unused to.

The creaking of the lift was a nasty contrast to the muted contemplation on the level. Lily winced when the gears ground to a stop. Until she'd heard the lift in such a way she'd never even noticed the loudness of it, nor had she even cared. Grief, she'd discovered a few years back, had a way of heightening sound.

The D.M.A.C. was, as usual, a weaker version of the level above it, except this time there was less silence instead of less chaos. Mutterings filled the offices.

When she looked out the windows, Lily saw storm clouds. There was sun when she left the Leaky Cauldron, though the air was cold and the light too bright against the snow on the ground, so she had to assume it was courtesy of the Maintenance staff. She stopped and stared out the window though she knew she was underground. Somehow the cold gray of the low clouds was perfectly in tune with her feelings.

Vaguely she wondered if the Minister for Magic was feeling the same as her and everyone around her. Or was he feeling more than they? Was he numb to reality, the same way she'd gone numb when her parents had died?

Death of this magnitude always reminded her of that day.

She'd been sitting with them at in an outdoor restaurant, in the middle of July. The sun had shone pleasantly and warmly against her skin, and Lily had practically felt freckles growing on her skin as they sat there. Her mother had had the same fair skin, though her hair was brown unless shone heavily on by the sun, and she'd worn a large brimmed hat that Lily had coveted. Her father had had weather-beaten skin after years in the armed forces, serving in the Second World War in his youth, and he didn't fear the sun…

Lily shook her head to clear herself of the memory.

Three and a half years had passed since the first major attack of Lord Voldemort, and Lily had more or less come to terms with the events of that day. The "less" was what had prompted her to get on the front lines of the war and join First Muggle Squad, so that she might save families the way she'd not been able to save her own.

She began heading to Mr Horner's office once more, questioning her split-second decision only a little. The need to fight was still there, but there were so many good reasons for going to Hogwarts… and joining Dumbledore's Order might provide her with more front line opportunities than she could have imagined.

Mr Horner was sitting at his desk, head in hands. He glanced up when she knocked on his doorframe.

"Evans," he said with relief. "I was just about to owl you."

"You were?"

He nodded and rubbed his face distractedly. "I take it you heard?"

"I was lunching in the Cauldron; we caught the Minister's address there."

"You don't really get used to these sorts of things," mused Mr Horner, and she knew he wasn't speaking so much to her as speculating aloud. "Years of this now, and every time it happens it's just as horrible as the last. Perhaps it's even more awful, I don't know."

She knew what he was saying. "What's the situation?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"The town," Lily clarified. "What's happening in the town?"

Mr Horner glanced down at his hands for a second before saying, "Second Muggle Squad is cleaning up Ottery St. Catchpole, and Medi-Wizards are on site as well. They would have called in First Squad but all the Followers are gone by now."

Lily looked down. "I should have been available. First Squad should've been called in."

He closed his eyes and shook his head wearily. "There was no warning. Diggory and McKinnon were only there to visit friends."

"The Weasleys?"

"Yes. Charles Weasley and his wife are dead."

She sighed; words seemed useless and, quite honestly, worthless at this point.

Mr Horner pulled a roll of parchment from his desk and picked up a quill wearily. He looked at her mournfully. "We need to come up with something…I don't know how, but the Muggle press needs a viable cover story—"

It was just as Lily had suspected. She was required to cover up the massacre with some creative and "believable" reason, and once again her choice was confirmed indubitably. She held up a hand and Mr Horner stopped talking.

"I should've told you this earlier, but last Sunday Albus Dumbledore offered me a temporary teaching job at Hogwarts," Lily began. His eyes widened slightly. "I wasn't sure whether I wanted to take it or not, but now I am."

"So…you're leaving?" asked Mr Horner in surprise.

"For the next two terms," she confirmed. "I'll be available for the summer, but I want to take this job. I _need_ to take this job."

"Evans–"

"I should probably get a letter of resignation ready," Lily mused aloud, "or something explaining my leave of absence. Which is better, do you think?"

Mr Horner sighed deeply. "Evans… I don't know what you expect me do to about it. I'm not exactly your boss anymore."

Lily bit her lip, thinking. "I have to let Mr Crouch and Miss Bagnold know. And I'm sorry, sir, but I can't help you with this one. You'll have to find someone else. I just…can't."

"This is one of your responsibilities in this Department—"

"Sir, this is one of the reasons I'm taking the job," she interrupted.

Mr Horner frowned. "You can't just skive off on your job, Evans. Even if it's unpleasant."

"Have Dagley help you; he's good at things like this."

Before he could mount a response Lily turned and exited the doorway of his office. His voice was lost to her among the mutterings of the cubicles around her. She headed up to the second level again, this time to write a letter and send Angelia to Hogwarts.

* * *

_Edit Jun 8 2015: I've recently done some grammar and punctuation updates for this chapter and the two succeeding it, in case anyone has noticed anything different. Cheers!_


	2. Of Christmas and New Year's

**A Matter of Timing**

**Chapter Two  
Of Christmas and New Year's**

"Alright, here's the plan," Josiah Trust began, pacing in front of his squad.

"Sir, yes, sir," muttered Kieran Holmes. Lily sat closest to him and was the only one who heard, and tried not to snort.

"We're the Muggle Squad on call for Christmas Eve until two in the morning, and—"

The entire squad groaned.

Trust gave a glare that quickly silenced the room. "I know it's not ideal, but someone has to do it," he said grimly. "At least we don't have the Second Squad's job. They're on duty the moment we get off until two in the afternoon, and just you think about that when you're sitting around having a grand old Christmas dinner with your family."

"But the staff party tonight," interjected Lucy Grant. "I've already made plans to meet up with people."

"Our team will be at the staff party,"–several whoops of excitement—"but since we're working, no alcohol. The only reason I'm even letting you attend a party while on call is because Bagnold insists on mandatory attendance. Besides, this way I know where you all are."

"He's a madman," Kieran whispered in Lily's ear.

"Trust, you can't possibly tell us no alcohol at a staff party—"

"When you're on duty, I can tell you whatever the hell I like, Whitby," said Trust. "I could have you stand on your heads for three hours straight and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could say to stop me, and do you know why?"

"Because you're an obsessive, controlling psychopath?" Meg MacMillan teased.

Trust shot her a look that was both sweet and sour. "_Because_, I am your squad leader, and if you don't listen to my every instruction you might _die_."

"Got it," Kieran piped up seriously. "Standing on our heads will prevent death."

"Holmes, one day that mouth of yours will get you into trouble with someone less forgiving than I, and to be clear I won't lift a finger to prevent the arse-kicking you sorely deserve."

"Why doesn't MacMillan get a snappy scolding like that?"

"I'm his fiancée," Meg pointed out.

Kieran sunk into his seat. "Kiss up," he muttered.

Lily raised a hand. "Er…question."

"This isn't Hogwarts, Evans; just shout it out with no regard for structure or social convention like the rest of these hooligans."

"You said Second Squad was on call after us."

"I did."

"Are they going to be at the party right before a twelve hour shift?"

Trust looked momentarily wrong-footed. "Er…no. No, they'll be in the barracks getting some sleep."

"But you said the party was mandatory," said Dagley, catching on to her game.

"It is, but—"

"So shouldn't they be there?" he continued slyly.

"Those are…special circumstances…"

Lily arranged her face into a perfectly innocent expression. "I heard Moody say he wasn't going to show up either."

"Well, Auror Moody is—"

"I think he mentioned something about…" she pretended to be deep in recollection, "what was it…oh, yes! 'Those parties are just an excuse to get piss drunk and no one respectable goes.'"

"You know, I think I heard him say the same thing," Dagley piped up. "Didn't he also say something about…'Not as though it's required'—"

"Alright, shut up, the both of you!" snapped Trust. "No, the party _isn't_ mandatory, and yes, all staff parties _are_ an excuse to get piss drunk, but Merlin's pants, you lot, you all run me ragged year round and I deserve some socializing with actual friends of mine instead of this rotten band of misfits I'm seen fit to lead, and on Christmas Eve no less."

"So you lied."

Trust's eyes hinted at murder. "Yes, Dagley, I lied. And unless you want me to get Lennox to Obliviate everyone in this room you'll stop nagging like a grandmother. Understood?"

Lily pursed her lips to keep from smiling and shared a look with Dagley. They both glanced over at Andrew Lennox, the team Obliviator and most recent addition to First Muggle Squad, who was currently fidgeting in his seat and looking very uncomfortable at being singled out. Lennox, much like Lily and Dagley, had a joint job with the D.M.A.C. as a member of the Obliviator Squad. All three Muggle Squads had an Obliviator assigned to them, and Lennox happened to be the best of the three. He also happened to be ridiculously shy.

"Sir?" Lennox stammered. "I—er, regulations prohibit me from, er, removing the memory of witches and wizards without prior clearance or in a non-emergency situation—"

"Oh, calm down, Lennox, I wasn't being serious."

"Er…" Lennox appeared completely bewildered by this entire meeting. "Then why did you say it?"

"Because, Lexy," said Kieran jovially, "this one likes to talk big to hide his small wand measurements. Don't worry your head about it."

Trust sighed loudly. "You seven are possibly the _worst_, most _insolent_ team ever assembled under this Ministry's banner. I am ashamed to call you qualified witches and wizards."

"Right; I'll be staying at my parents for Christmas, then," Meg said loudly.

The entire room (even Lennox, who had the decency to hide his nose and mouth under his hand) snorted at how quickly Trust's face turned pale and his scowl turned into genuine apprehension. Meg herself couldn't conceal a self-satisfied smirk at how she'd managed the room and future husband.

He opened and closed his mouth once or twice before saying, "Right, er…I'll see you lot in six hours. Get some sleep at home, or in the barracks, I don't give a damn, but show up here at two this afternoon or your arse will become my personal property."

"Promises, promises," Kieran muttered.

"I heard that, Holmes, and I'll tell you right now it's not funny. All of you are dismissed. Except you, Evans, and Dagley."

Lily stood up and stretched. She'd only just woken up an hour before, and the thought of turning back in for a few more hours was tantalizing. Sleep hadn't come easily to her the night before, not after what had happened. Hopefully whatever it was that Trust wanted to talk about wouldn't take that long. Kieran waved to her as he began to head toward the barracks.

This was the least interesting Christmas Eve Lily had ever taken part in; sleep, work, sleep, work. How uninspiring. She felt almost wistful of last year's tense and terrifying week of Christmas, the hell she had gone through, and the even greater hell Dagley had gone through by her side.

Almost.

And this year she didn't even have a boyfriend to kiss come New Year's Eve. Not that, well, she _needed_ one, especially not Tim, but this happened to be the first year since her fifth year at Hogwarts where Lily was bereft a kissing partner.

She glanced over at Dagley, who remained seated as the rest of the squad left, eyeing Trust apprehensively.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked once everyone had gone. "Are we burying my mutilated corpse soon?"

"Shocking as it may be, Dagley, this little meeting isn't about you," Trust said dryly. He turned to Lily. "I had a word with Bagnold up on level one about your employment status, Evans. She seems to think you should have your position reinstated after your year at Hogwarts is up. I didn't realize you'd be spending a year at Hogwarts, Evans."

She blanched. Oh, of all the people to break the news to Dagley, and like _this_…

"Actually, it was only finalised yesterday," said Lily awkwardly. "I was going to tell you soon—"

"How about your partner here, Evans?" Trust interrupted her, gesturing toward Dagley. "Were you going to tell him about your new job, hmm?"

Lily looked over at Dagley, whose shock and hurt struck her unexpectedly hard in the chest. Dagley looked from her to Trust, his arms crossed in front of his chest like a shield, as if words had escaped him for the moment. She felt wretched.

"Of course I was," she said to both men. "I was going to tell you, Dags, I swear."

"Evans, when did this happen?" he asked, his blue eyes wide with confusion.

"I…er, last week Dumbledore asked if I could take over Flitwick's job for a year while he went on sabbatical," she answered hastily. "Flitwick, I mean. Not Dumbledore, he's not going on sabbatical. And yesterday after Ottery St. Catchpole, I said I would. I have to get away from this for a little while," Lily finished in desperation.

Dagley shook his head. "And you didn't think to ask me what I thought about it?"

"It's not exactly your decision to make," Lily told him, now slightly annoyed.

"No, it's not, but…Merlin's beard, Evans, you're my partner!" snapped Dagley, standing up. "You're the person I trust most in the field to watch my back and keep me from _dying_ on a regular basis. How'd you think I'd feel if, one day, I was randomly assigned someone I don't know I can rely on because you'd up and gone with no warning?"

His words were like a slap in the face. "I was going to _tell_ you," she repeated insistently, "As soon as I talked to Dumbledore about my living arrangements. I was going to ask you to _flat-sit_ for me for a year, since you're always going on about how dingy your little place is, but I suppose I won't bother now."

He blinked. "Flat-sit for you?"

"Yeah, Dags! Since you're the only person I'd want living in my home while I'm away—and for the record, I would _never_ let anyone assign you to a partner you don't know," she snapped. "I wouldn't leave if I thought that might happen, not for a second."

Dagley looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't come up with the right words. His expression shifted from hurt to touched, and Lily's heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. But how could he think she would just _abandon _him out of the blue? She wasn't nearly so cold as that, was she?

Trust coughed. "Not that your little lovers' spat isn't fascinating," he announced, "but shall we move on to more important topics?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, _now_ what?"

"Well, for one thing, you're a valuable member of my team," said Trust. Lily turned to look at him in astonishment. "Yes, Evans, you heard me, and I'll be damned if I ever say it again, but there you have it. I'm loathe to let you go—what if we have emergencies that require you or your…_charms?_"

Lily frowned…and then she understood him. "Oh."

The spell she'd invented, the one she had received an award for, was still in the early stages of non-experimental use. Not only was it a charm the Ministry didn't want anyone even _remotely_ connected to the Followers learning, it was above N.E.W.T. level mastery. Which Lily was immensely proud of herself over, as she should be, but the list of people who could use her charm was extremely limited. Only about ten people, Lily herself included, were allowed to use it, and only in the most extreme of circumstances.

Trust knew about the spell, unlike the rest of First Muggle Squad, and so far they hadn't needed its sort of power.

Then again, so far there hadn't been a massacre like Ottery St. Catchpole. Things were, as they always seemed to in this war, escalating dangerously.

"What are you proposing?" she asked her squad leader.

"We, as First Muggle Squad, reserve the right to pull you from school during a massive crisis," said Trust, "and same for all Muggle response squads, should they require you."

"You'd have to talk to Dumbledore about that," Lily said hesitantly.

"You'd have to say yes," he shot back.

Dagley walked over. "Come on, Evans," he pleaded. "I want you here, even if it's just for a bit."

She grimaced, and sighed. Between Trust's commanding nature and her partner's wide-eyed pleading, Lily didn't stand much of a chance even if she _had_ wanted to say no. It was presumptuous of them to assume rights over her skills, and perhaps she should have gotten angry over it, but with a war on and more and more blatant attacks no one could afford to be angry about being useful.

And wasn't that the point, she mused, of throwing herself into the fight, without regard for personal safety? Wasn't the point to be useful in _every_ situation?

"I'll say yes," she told them, "but it has to be a legitimate crisis. I won't be pulled out of teaching a class because you want to track down some vandal."

"Right, because that's what I was hoping to do," drawled Trust.

Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm off to take a nap," she told the two men. "Anything else you have to say, best make it quick."

"I've got nothing else," said the squad leader with shrug.

"See you at the party, then," she said, and turned toward the barracks.

Dagley followed her as she walked through the narrow passageway—she assumed that, if the walls allowed it, he'd be striding shoulder-to-shoulder with her even with a bit of a squeeze—and grabbed her arm to stop her at the women's quarters.

"Sorry for snapping," he said abruptly; he was never any good at apologies.

"No worries," said Lily.

"I just…well, you know how it is when you lose a partner."

She nodded, silently acknowledging their histories at the Ministry.

Lily had been lucky; she'd only been in field work for six years, two years after she started at the D.M.L.E. In that time she'd only had three partners. One of them, her very first, had been spectacularly short-lived since the gentleman in question had put in for a transfer not long afterwards, citing irreconcilable differences. Which was actually true—he couldn't reconcile with her Muggle-born blood, and she couldn't care less. Her second partner was an elderly scrapper of a woman who (and this Lily still had trouble dealing with) died during a raid searching for illegal and dangerous magical artifacts.

Her name had been Gertrude Fellows, and Lily had loved her dearly.

Dagley, however, had a much worse story to his name. Working in the D.M.L.E. for nearly thirteen years now, he'd had ten partners. Four of them had quit the Ministry due to old age or "political differences" (one had been fired), two others had moved to different departments, three of them had suffered gruesome deaths, and the last one, the one before he'd been partnered with Lily for the last year or so, had been hit with a Cruciatus Curse so unbearably cruel it had taken the man's mind with it.

Common suspicion placed Bellatrix Lestrange as the woman behind the wand for that particular fate. Lily was inclined to agree—she'd seen the woman at a distance twice and she had more power than anyone that sadistic had a right to. Dagley had more than once vowed to be the one to take Bellatrix Lestrange into custody.

"To be clear," Lily said carefully, "I refuse to die before I see my eightieth birthday come about. And I refuse to let you die, either, so you'll be stuck with me for a good long while."

His face was an indistinguishable medley of emotions. "All right. There are loads _worse_ people I could get stuck with, I suppose."

"Oh, haha," she scoffed. "Watch it, or I might just stay at Hogwarts for good."

"No, can't have that," Dagley said, smirking. "You'd go mad from all the obnoxious children."

Lily rolled her eyes and stepped through the doorway that led to the women's sleeping cots, wondering if she ever _could_ stick around at Hogwarts. For one thing, Dagley was right; the students would drive her barmy. She considered herself quite rubbish with children. And for another, she'd miss her barmy squad.

* * *

The party was just as dull as Lily had expected it to be, what with the lack of alcohol. Then again, she'd been stuck in the Atrium since four o'clock (banned from leaving by Trust) and it was currently nearly ten, so perhaps it was cabin fever that had her so frustrated.

She glanced over at the bar longingly. If she had to have one more glass of lemonade and hold the Goblin Gin, Lily thought she might scream.

_Four more hours,_ she reminded herself. _Only four_.

"You look miserable," she heard from behind her.

"Oh, how could you tell?" Lily drawled, turning to smile at John Whitby.

"I think after almost fourteen years of knowing you, I've figured out your moods," he said.

"Says the idiot who couldn't figure out I was practically in love with you our seventh year," Lily shot back, rolling her eyes. It had long been a topic of amusement for the both of them; ever since they signed on to the D.M.L.E. Lily had gotten over her stupid crush on John.

He snorted. "You can't hold that against me; I was busy being Head Boy."

"Yes, because I wasn't busy as Head Girl or anything," she teased. "Besides, how could you possibly be a scholar of my moods since first year? We weren't exactly friends until after Hogwarts, you know."

"What? You didn't consider us friends those long years?" John put a hand to his heart in overdramatised shock. "Lily Evans, I am hurt."

"Don't take it so personally, Whitby; I had hardly any friends until seventh year." Lily stretched a smile onto her face as if she found this amusing.

"You had loads of friends," he argued.

"No, I had people who 'thought I was charming' but had elsewhere to be."

"What about Sarah-Jane Mosley?"

Lily stared at him. "Sarah-Jane? You do remember what happened in fourth year, don't you?"

John grimaced. "Well, yes...but why on earth are we talking about this when there much better things to think about on Christmas Eve?"

"I'm sorry, I seem to be in a bad mood. How have you been?" she asked, feeling like a horrid old Grinch for taking the conversation south. "How's Emily?"

"She's fine; _we're_ fine," said John. He shrugged awkwardly. "I just barely get to see her these days. Most of her time is at the hospital. She hasn't come home since Ottery St. Catchpole."

Lily winced. "Oh, I didn't even think about that," she said. "It must be a nightmare."

He nodded, face drawn. "I mean, it's awful for me to think about her stuck there among all that…but, at least _I_ know she's relatively safe, you know?"

Oh, she understood perfectly. "It's never easy, is it? No matter what job you take."

John looked thoughtful for a moment, and then grinned. "Speaking of jobs, what's this I hear from Dagley? You're taking a year off to teach at Hogwarts, is that right?"

"That obnoxious gossip," she grumbled. "Honestly, he's worse than a fifth year before a Hogsmeade weekend."

"Come now, you can't blame him for spreading some halfway decent news around," said John. "After all, that sort of thing is getting harder and harder to come by these days. I, for one, am very happy for you, Lils; I think teaching suits you." On the surface, his words were sincere enough, but Lily knew him well enough to detect the teasing underneath.

She smacked him lightly on the chest, rolling her eyes.

"Are we beating up Ravenclaws again?"

Lily shook her head. "Only a Hufflepuff would even care about Houses this long out of Hogwarts."

"Only a Gryffindor would dare to tell a Hufflepuff that sort of thing to her face," Cassie shot back, although she wasn't serious in the least. She had a goblet full of elf-made wine in her hand that Lily and John eyed jealously, and although she had circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, Lily could tell Cassie was less anxious today than she had been the day before.

"And proof that Lily Evans had a friend before seventh year arrives," said John. He glanced warily at Cassie. "Ladies, if you don't mind, Kieran has suggested a prank we might play on Trust later, so I'm off to see what's up his sleeve. Try not to murder anyone, Delaney."

"I make no promises," said Cassie, and made a big show of sighing in relief as he walked away. "I thought you'd gotten over that."

"What, John?" Lily laughed softly. "He's married, silly. I'm friends with his wife. I even set them up."

Cassie sniffed. "You tend to hold on to things, you know. Especially crushes you should leave behind."

"I think Hogwarts is long over, Cas," she said.

"Hogwarts is _never_ over," proclaimed another voice loudly.

Lily's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Mags?"

Margot Keller came up and slung her arm around Lily's shoulder, her glass of firewhiskey sloshing dangerously close to the brim—and yet miraculously never falling out. "Don't look so surprised, Lily; when is there _ever_ a party that I don't attend?"

"Perhaps a staff only party?" suggested Cassie, barely hiding a smirk.

"Oh, but I know so many people here," said Margot, waving this off as a minor inconvenience. "And the number of dress robes I made that people are wearing tonight…well, I might as well be employed by the Ministry myself, considering all the business this lot gives me."

"And yet."

Lily flashed a quick but pointed glare and Cassie rearranged her disdainful expression into one with something resembling civility.

"Did you come here with anyone?" Lily asked, wrapping an arm around Margot's waist affectionately.

"No, not tonight," said Margot, tossing her hair out of her face. "I thought I'd mix things up and arrive stag. That's alright, isn't it?"

"Of course, sweetie," said Lily. She patted her friend's stomach. "You're always welcome."

"Always," echoed Cassie. Lily couldn't quite believe her.

Neither could Margot, it seemed, and she rested her head on Lily's shoulder possessively. "When are we going for drinks again?" she asked them. "I've missed you both so much; business has been picking up for the holiday parties but I'd love to squeeze in a night of fun before you're off to Hogwarts."

Lily groaned. "Oh, who told _you?_"

"I think it was Lucy Grant," Margot said, waving her free hand around vaguely. "Anyway, congratulations. Is this the first we're hearing about it?"

"Lily told me on Monday," announced Cassie.

"Oh?" said Margot, with an air of indulgence. "How nice for you to have such…proximity."

On any other night, Lily might have let them go on for hours. She knew neither of them intended any true harm, but as the only sober one of the three, she'd already grown weary and the conversation hadn't even lasted two minutes.

She opened her mouth to snap at the pair, but a commotion near the lifts sufficiently distracted all of them.

A crowd formed around one lift in particular, and although Lily was not tall enough to see inside she thought there was more than one person making an entrance. She heard excited babbling, indistinguishable from one voice to the next. Cassie stiffened, and Lily cast a glance over to see her friend's usually stoic face fluctuate with emotion.

"Pardon," Cassie said distantly, and began to push her way through the crowd with little regard for others. Her abnormally sharp elbows came in handy as she squeezed through a solid mass of people, disappearing from view shortly after.

"What's going on?" Margot asked, as if Lily would have the answers.

"Dunno; maybe the event staff hired a band or something," she said. Lily doubted her words even as they came out of her mouth.

"Like anyone cool would turn up to play at a _Ministry_ party," scoffed Margot. "The only musician these oafs could wrangle into a show would be Celestina Warbeck."

Lily snorted. "You have an irrational hatred of that woman."

Loud cheering came from the epicenter of the crowd, and Lily strained to hear what was happening.

"I can't help it," Margot said, rising to the balls of her feet and craning her neck. Lily didn't have the heart to shush her, even if it would do any good. "She…she's so irritating, and her lyrics are shit. Besides, I've met her; ageing old broad putting on airs like she's twenty-five, stepping into my shop and acting like the center of the bloody universe."

"And you stuck her with more than a few needles during fitting, as I recall."

"You bet your pert little arse I did."

The crowd began to disperse, and Lily gripped Margot's waist tightly. "It's the Prewetts!"

Cassie's arms were wrapped tightly around one of the redheaded twins (she assumed Fabian; at this distance she couldn't tell them apart), and the other was busy shaking hands with several Aurors. Lily thought she saw the neatly dressed Crouch standing in the queue.

"They must have caught Peridenn," said John in Lily's ear. She jumped a little and glanced over at him. "Good on them—slippery bastard didn't stand a chance."

"Civilian present," she muttered, jerking her head to her right.

"Oh, she's not listening," John whispered back.

It was true; Margot was describing in excited detail how _happy_ the reunited couple looked, and wondering if Cassie would mind Margot having a go at Gideon.

"You didn't go far," observed Lily, her voice still low. "Kieran's prank a bit of a dud?"

"Well, obviously," he said. "Besides, you know I try to stay out of Delaney's way if I can help it. If she had her way I'd have long been buried in a ditch."

"You know it's not personal," said Lily, watching her best friend kissing Fabian sweetly. Cassie's smile was beyond exuberant. "She's just…"

"Same as ever?" John snorted. Lily grimaced in apology.

Margot leaned over. "Why are you two not listening to me? I _said_, doesn't Cassie look nice when she smiles?"

Lily exchanged a look with John. "Oh, yes," she agreed solemnly.

"I mean, she's obviously drop-dead gorgeous," continued Margot, lost in her own train of thought. "I'd pay mounds of Galleons for her to model my designs. But you never really notice her looks, what with all the glaring and the shouting. It's not very appealing to most people."

"That's probably the point," John observed.

"Well, she _does_ look lovely when she's smiling," said Margot resolutely, "And I'll tell her so the next time she starts being mean."

"You won't have to wait long; she's headed this way."

Lily glanced over at the drinks table again and sighed. Oh, yes, this was going to be a _very_ fun night.

* * *

Unlike many of her friends and colleagues, when Lily woke up in the morning after an alcohol-filled night she had perfect recollection of the events leading up to her slumber. For example, she remembered that at two o'clock in the morning Christmas Day, not a second after her on-call shift ended, she had downed three glasses of Goblin Gin at the staff party before migrating with Margot, Cassie, Fabian, and Gideon to a Muggle pub and consuming a fair amount of their beer on tap.

She also remembered stumbling before Apparition, and Cassie insisting on taking Lily home with her and Fabian to avoid splinching all by her lonesome. Lily recalled falling onto the couch in the couple's flat, facedown and ready to get some sleep, and a dim, half-slumbering recollection of Fabian draping a blanket over her.

Still, it was a bit of a shock to wake up in someone else's flat, especially when that someone else was watching her sleep.

"That's dead creepy," she mumbled, pushing her hair out of her face.

"I didn't know if you were going to wake up at all," said Fabian, shrugging. To Lily's relief, he spoke quietly.

She looked around the room, thrown off by the mature light shining through the window to her left. "What time is it?"

"Nearly three o'clock," he told her. She grimaced. "If it makes you feel better, I only woke up an hour ago."

"And I assume Cas woke up at some ungodly hour," Lily mused. She sat up, clutching the blanket around her and groaning as her head began to pound.

"Crouch called her in for some last-minute thing at about ten this morning," said Fabian. "Come on, I've got your remedy."

Lily watched him leave the room before standing and, after a moment to collect herself from the sudden vertigo, stumbled toward the bathroom and shut the door quietly. She went to the sink and splashed some water on her face (warm, not cool) before looking up at her reflection.

Oh, she was a wreck.

In the last two days—now three, she remembered slowly—Lily hadn't had much chance or wherewithal to find a mirror. It showed; the lack of make-up, the heavy eyelids, the cracked lips and hopelessly tangled hair staring back all told her she was becoming one of those people, the sort that threw herself into work and abandoned any semblance of self-care. Although, she noted somewhat vainly, even with those obvious signs of neglect she was still beautiful.

She clung to that sometimes, when things seemed impossible. Everyone needed something stupid and constant to hold onto and for Lily it was her appearance. She'd gotten lucky in her inheritance, taking more after her father in looks whereas (and she felt guilty at this thought) Petunia had been less graced by taking after their mother.

Lily sighed and shook off thoughts of her family; that was another lifetime.

Her dress was all a mess. She tugged it off, breathing out as the cold air of the bathroom hit her sweaty skin. She shook it out and reached for her wand to do a spell—but her wand wasn't on the counter, of course. Fabian probably had it tucked away in that safe place he kept putting her things in. Lily tugged the dress back on with some misery and left the bathroom.

"In the kitchen," Fabian called gently.

The sound of his voice led her past the sitting room where she found not only Fabian but also Gideon at the kitchen counter.

Gideon looked how Lily felt. Unlike the perpetually chipper Fabian, who rarely let anything faze him, Gideon seemed to be suffering from both his week in the wild and a hard night's drink all at the same time. In his left hand he nursed a glass of what Lily assumed to be that remedy she was promised, and his right hand cradled his head.

"Mrmng," mumbled Gideon.

"Good morning." Lily glanced over at Fabian as he held out a glass. "Mine?"

"Drink it slow," he advised, and Lily took a seat next to Gideon.

After a few minutes, she said to the twins, "I'm glad you're not dead. We were very worried."

"Me too," said Gideon. "Worried about lots of things. Innat right, Fab?"

"I've always known you to worry unnecessarily," Fabian replied. He stretched his arms. "Anyway, I wrote up a report of what happened while you two were asleep. I just need you to sign it, Gid."

"That was fast," observed Lily. Her head was beginning to unfog little by little.

Fabian smiled. "I keep records on missions."

"Completely accurate records," added Gideon, though unlike Fabian his scowl remained firmly in place.

Lily leaned to her left and bumped him with her shoulder. "Cheer up, Gid, it's Christmas."

He raised his eyebrows as he turned to look at her. "So it is. I'd almost forgotten."

She grinned, her headache all cleared away at last.

"Do you have any plans for today, Lil?" asked Fabian as he cleared away her and Gideon's glasses with a wave of his wand. They settled in the sink gently.

"I was going to pull a cracker by my lonesome, get out a bottle of Odgen's Old, and possibly turn on the radio," she said with a shrug.

"That's dead depressing," Fabian told her.

Lily shrugged again. Her last Christmas had been spent in the field, searching for three missing members of the First Muggle Squad. Knee-deep in muddy snow and freezing cold even with the benefits of heating charms, hoping to anything and everything that all her team would come back alive, missing Tim and feeling guilty for it - honestly, with all that, the idea of a drunk Christmas seemed not only relaxing but downright cheerful.

Gideon cleared his throat. "Well, it's just me and the couple," he said, "At least when Cassie gets back. I'm not keen on playing third wheel again, if you'd like to keep me company."

"I don't know," said Lily somewhat doubtfully. She wasn't fond of intruding in planned events.

"Marley McKinnon's about to speak on the radio," said Gideon. "If you want to listen in with us, maybe, and then decide after?"

Lily sat up a bit straighter. "That's right," she observed. "I forgot it's Saturday already. I'll stick around for that."

She was a fan of Marlene McKinnon's addresses—in fact, she was a fan of the woman herself. She'd skipped last Saturday's address on account of alternately screaming and crying on the same couch she slept on last night after her wretched break-up with Tim, but she'd heard it was a good one.

"I'll tune us up, then," said Fabian, and went into the sitting room. He poked his head back in the kitchen not two seconds later. "Lily, you'll be wanting this, I'm assuming?" He tossed her wand over, and she caught it by the barest tip of her fingers.

Strains of Celestina Warbeck floated through to the kitchen. After a few minutes, Lily caught Gideon's eye with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up," he snapped good-naturedly and stopped swaying in his seat. "My sister danced to this song at her wedding. She adores Celestina."

"_She_ adores Celestina?" teased Lily.

"Alright, I'm not entirely immune to a few of her numbers," admitted Gideon with a wry grin. He Summoned a bottle of Elf-Made Wine from a cabinet and two glasses followed shortly. "Now shut up and drink up, or I'll have to do something about your smart mouth. You should really start to watch that; professors aren't supposed to be feisty."

"Yes, I suppose I'll have to become frightfully dull," she mused. Gideon poured a glass for her, and then for himself.

"I don't imagine you have far to go for that."

Lily smacked him just as Fabian walked in.

"Oh, stop it, you two," he said half-heartedly, not bothering to even act indignant anymore. "It's starting—come on in."

Gideon bumped Lily, shoulder to shoulder, before standing wearily.

"Getting old, grandpa?" said Lily as she stood, feeling similarly worn.

"Never so old that I couldn't beat you in a duel."

"I'd like to see you try," Lily replied as they entered the sitting room. In all honesty, she really _wouldn't_ like to see him try, nor Fabian. The twins' ability to duel—often as a synchronised pair—was much lauded among the Auror community, and Dumbledore himself, the world's finest wizard, had given the Prewetts a public commendation. If Lily were ever to face even one of them in a duel, she would not be nearly so glib.

Gideon sunk onto the same couch Lily had slept on the night before, and she followed suit wearily.

"Turn it up, yeah?" Gideon asked of his brother, who obliged.

"..._in recent weeks, but no one has seen the group since their disastrous record album _On a Golden Songbird_ was released two years ago,_" the reporter was saying. "_So far, The Pisky Patrol has not released a statement confirming or denying their attempts toward a new and hopefully much improved album. Personally, I'm looking forward to seeing a return for these musicians. I loved their debut record _Falling Off Broomsticks_ and it would be a shame if the last thing Patrol ever released was that commercialised wreck._"

"_Thank you, Fortus,_" said a more familiar voice. "_That was Fortus Mezze, giving us the latest in musical news. Once again, I'm your host, Roger Jordan, bringing you the news on our independent broadcast The Howler. Thank you for tuning in and choosing us as your source of information._"

Fabian sat down in the armchair closest to the wireless and held his wand absently in one hand.

"_And now Marlene McKinnon, President of the Alliance of Magic-Born Beings, is here for her regularly scheduled Saturday address. Today I have the rare honour of speaking to Miss McKinnon myself—and she's just signed on. Hello, Marlene, how are you this morning?_"

"_Doing well, Roger, thank you_," said Marlene McKinnon. Lily sat up a bit straighter. "_And a Happy Christmas to you_."

"_Yes, Happy Christmas to you as well. I understand you're here to discuss tolerance._"

"_That I am._"

"_I suppose that's a Christmas-themed conversation, if you stretch your definition of Christmas_."

"_On the contrary, Roger, it's a very Christmas-themed conversation to have_," Marlene disagreed, although not unkindly. "_If you think about the meaning of Christmas, it makes perfect sense. Christmas is about goodwill between others, no matter what. I was raised in a large family with lots of fighting between siblings and cousins, and aunts and uncles and parents; it's nearly impossible to get every McKinnon to agree most of the year, but on Christmas we all come together in Stirling Mansion and no matter our differences, we all manage to look past that and enjoy each other_."

"_Are you at Stirling right now?_"

"_I am, along with my cousin Cailean. Had to drag him out of the office, but we're all here._"

"_Well, past my best along to the Minister_."

"_I will_."

"_And you believe your family can set an example for the Wizarding World at large?_"

"_I do, Roger. Tolerance is something we must give as people, not because the other person has earned it—Merlin knows half my cousins deserve to be trussed up—but the other person deserves it on principle_."

"_Interesting, Marlene—how do you mean?_"

"_What I mean is...well, let's take for example the recent literature published by a Vol…You-Know-Who supporter. In the pamphlet the supporter states all Muggle-borns should prove their right to hold at Gringotts, work in businesses and government, even use a wand. This pamphlet claims in the same vein these Muggle-borns should be specially tested in order to determine competence, whereas purebloods are...I have it right here...ah. 'Purebloods are by nature highly unlikely to be anything but highly efficient in use of magic, since the ability to apply magic is passed through the bloodline and a much stronger lineage increases the inheritance of magic._'"

"_You know, I read a recent study claiming that more Squibs are born into pureblood families than mixed heritage_."

"_I read that study myself, Roger, and I agree with its findings, but that's an entirely different conversation_."

"_Ah, you mean about inbreeding?_"

Lily glanced at both twins with some worry—she knew that, among old pureblood families, the subject of inbreeding was a touchy one. Fabian's face was a little darker at the mention.

"_Yes, let's not talk about that now. My point is that, first of all, following the logic applied in that literature, anyone who has enough magic to receive a Hogwarts letter is already qualified to carry a wand. Muggle-born witches and wizards are sent Hogwarts letters _specifically_ because they exhibited enough magic to be noticed by our Ministry's Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Secondly, if a witch or wizard at Hogwarts—or any foreign school, for that matter—passes the required O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s for the job they have applied to, they have already proved their competence_."

"_Quite true_."

"_Thank you, Roger_."

"_But how is this related to tolerance, if you don't mind my asking?_"

"_Not at all; I was just getting to that_."

"_Right, sorry_."

"_Not a problem. It is important to note that, while this literature claims that purebloods are inherently better than Muggle-borns or even half-bloods, the very system that induces Muggle-borns into our magical society debunks that myth. It's all simply fear that creates such vile hatred in others; fear of the unknown and fear of evolution and change. We _are _a changing society, and to fear that change sows nothing but discord and pain amongst the entire magical community._

"_So what is the greatest counter to fear?_" she prompted, and then answered herself. "_Tolerance. Not love, but simple, easy tolerance. We accept that Muggle-borns have a place in our world. We, the vestiges of an old society, accept the growing number of Muggle-borns in our work, in our schools, and in our day-to-day life. I don't ask any one person to _enjoy_ this change, nor to love - that is too much. But to say, yes, we can coexist, in small steps, is something that even the most fervent of fanatics can achieve_."

"_That's an excellent point, Marlene, but what about pureblood hatred of Muggles, themselves?_"

"_I suppose ...when it comes to Muggles, we must accept there is a Muggle world and a Wizarding world, and the two are mostly separate. Not entirely, however; this radio is a Muggle design, adapted by wizards. That could be a solid argument toward tolerance of Muggles—the inventions they bring us are often revolutionary...I'm sorry, while I do believe in treating Muggles with respect and decency, this Alliance speaks toward beings born of _magic, _and I feel more comfortable letting other organisations speak on behalf of Muggles themselves, rather than an unresearched secondary source_."

"_Such as Friends of Muggles?_"

This time it was Lily's turn to tense up at an uncomfortable subject. In theory, she respected Friends of Muggles and what the organisation stood for, but in practice...they seemed to miss the point more often than not.

"_Exactly, and I believe their thoughts on this part of the discussion would be much more informative_."

"_We're actually hosting a discussion with Friends of Muggles in a few weeks here; I'll be sure to ask their opinion_."

"_I greatly look forward to hearing it_."

"_Are there any other groups of Magic-born Beings that you feel deserve tolerance besides Muggle-borns?_"

"_Oh, certainly. There are, of course, the centaurs, who have long been persecuted and denied their rights as both beast, which they classify themselves as, and intelligent beings. Centaurs were once scholars and teachers of wizards, long before official schools of magic were—_"

A piercing whine started up all of a sudden, sharp and loud and reverberating inside Lily's very skull.

"Shut it off!" yelled Gideon beside her. "Shut it off!" He was clutching his hands to his ears in some vain attempt to block out the sound, and through the sharp pain in her head Lily realised she was doing the same.

"What is that?" she screamed.

The noise stopped just as suddenly as it started, leaving in its wake a crushing silence that gave Lily a headache.

"..._and under the Centaur Registration Act of 1783, all centaurs who refuse to register are considered criminals, which means that all centaurs are criminals because not a single one has ever—_"

"Sorry!" called Cassie from the foyer. "I forgot anyone else would be here!"

"Sorry," Fabian echoed sheepishly as he fiddled with the volume, muffling Marlene's address. He appeared entirely unaffected by that dreadful sound.

Lily massaged her temples. "What," she said quietly, with a touch of irritation, "in Merlin's name was that?"

"These two idiots," answered Gideon. "They've rigged an alarm to go off if anyone's inside their flat besides the two of them."

"Sorry!" Cassie repeated as she stepped inside. "Lils, I swear I thought you'd be gone by now." She paused and turned to the radio. "Marley's on?"

"Yeah, she's on one of her centaur bends," said Fabian. "Give it a few minutes."

"And while we're waiting, how about you explain that dreadful alarm system to me," suggested Lily. She plastered a smile on her face that was too false to pass for anything else.

Fabian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's...sort of a copy of the alarm system in the Atrium," he said. "But instead of when anyone unauthorised Apparates inside sets off an alarm, intruders here...well, it's a bit of a defence mechanism. They hear a sound and we don't as soon as we arrive inside."

"So you torture your guests?"

"Not _intentionally_..."

"That's about five Ministry regulations broken," Lily muttered.

Cassie sighed and threw herself into the remaining empty armchair. "Oh lighten up, Lils. We usually turn it off when we have guests. If you recall, you didn't catch a whisper of it last weekend."

Fabian reached over and put his hand on top of hers. Cassie didn't show any sign of receiving this affection, but she didn't pull away, either.

"I suppose I'll _have_ to let it go," Lily conceded, "since it's three Aurors against one lowly Hogwarts professor."

"Two Aurors."

"Alright, Gid, you can be on my side, but we're still horribly outnumbered."

"Oh, I don't know," said Fabian with a wicked grin, "the thought of you and Cas dueling is far too entertaining. Who _would_ win?"

Lily shook her head. "That's not something we ever want to find out. Let's move on, shall we; Cassie, how was the Ministry this morning? Have there been any attacks since yesterday?"

"None," said Cassie. "It's been mercifully quiet. Makes me wonder what those bloody Followers are up to. Moody just pulled me in to talk about paperwork is all."

"But..." Lily frowned. "I thought you went in to talk to Crouch this morning."

It was only a split second, but she didn't miss the flicker of Cassie's eyes to Fabian, and the same of his eyes to her.

"Crouch called me in," Cassie corrected herself, "and then I talked to Moody after that. That's why I was gone so long."

"Alright then," Lily said slowly. She looked over at the wireless. "I think Marley's done with the centaur talk, if you want to turn the sound up a bit."

Looking relieved, Fabian turned the dial up again and Marlene McKinnon's discussion on tolerance continued.

Lily knew it was silly; Crouch _did_ have a tendency to pull people into his office for hours on end... it was a perfectly reasonable explanation, but a small knot of distrust began to twist in her belly all the same. She could no more shake it off than find evidence to prove herself right, and Lily felt wretched on top of that for doubting her best friend.

All the same, after seven years of fighting dark magic Lily had learned to trust her instincts, and right now her instincts were sending a very clear signal that something was off.

* * *

Lily spent the morning after Christmas finally cleaning up after the fit she'd thrown over a week ago when she and Tim split. She hadn't possessed either the time or motivation—and still had none of the latter—to devote to the state of her sitting room, but if Dagley were to move in here New Year's Day it would have to be habitable.

She used her wand for the more dangerous things, broken vases and trinkets, but for the simpler things Lily used her hands.

Her mother had taught Lily when she was still a child that working with one's hands was its own reward. At the time, Lily hadn't agreed, and even less so when she'd started attending Hogwarts—because if she could do magic, what was the point in using her hands? It seemed foolish and wasteful; there were so many other things she could do with her time than clean.

But after leaving Hogwarts and living on her own after getting a job at the Ministry, after her parents died...after all that, she'd learned the value in working with her hands and the soreness and satisfaction of a good clean. Tim always laughed at her when she spent a morning scrubbing down her kitchen, telling her it was silly.

(They would fight about it constantly, and somehow end up on a counter top with half their clothes off. Lily was convinced that, were the sex not nearly so good, she and Tim would have long since parted ways.)

The truth of it was, Lily never felt so at peace as when she went through a cleaning spree. She only had to focus on whatever was at hand, and if her gramophone was on, not much else crossed her mind. No thoughts of death, mayhem, pain..._any_ of it bothered her when she had grime to wash away. She didn't _have_ to think about those things.

What she _did_ have to think about was boxing up her things to take with her. There was so much to do in between now and New Year's Day, so much to assemble and discard...

A knock sounded on her door.

"One moment," Lily called.

She stood, groaning slightly after her long genuflection upon the hard kitchen floors. She wondered briefly if her old age wasn't catching up with her early, and dismissed the thought near as soon as it came into her head. Before heading to the door she checked her reflection in the mirror; if it was Dumbledore again, Lily did not want to demonstrate herself twice a slob.

After removing the locking spells she had placed on her door (all tuned to her wand uniquely, to avoid any nasty surprises), she pulled it open.

"Happy Boxing Day," said Margot, a large bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Or, if you prefer, Happy belated Christmas."

Lily smiled warmly. "Oh, you."

"May I come in?"

"Always," said Lily, and opened the door wider to allow her friend inside. She stepped back and narrowly avoided a face full of flowers.

"I know you're heading off to Hogwarts soon, and I thought I could stop by and help you pack up," Margot explained as she set the vase down on Lily's coffee table. "It is, after all, Boxing Day, and you need to box things, so I thought why not come over? The shop's closed today so I would have been swanning around with nothing to do, and you know how I get when I'm bored."

"That I do. Tea?"

Margot shuddered. "Please don't. I've had your tea."

She suppressed a snort. "Well, I was just doing some kitchen cleaning, if you want to come and visit in there."

"Ooh, yes. I love watching you act like a Muggle."

"I'm not acting like a Muggle, I'm acting like a Muggle-born. Which I am."

"Whichever you like," said Margot, following Lily through the sitting room and into the tiny kitchen. She grabbed one of the two rickety (and miraculously sturdy) stools, nimbly climbing onto the seat with the refined air of practice and natural grace.

Lily resumed her cleaning, this time with a little more self-conscious than before due to her audience.

"Where did you go after the pub?" she asked Margot. "I lost track of you."

"So you do remember!" her friend exclaimed excitedly. "You were so sloshed at that point I wasn't sure if you even remembered your own name. I only went home afterwards; my mother decided to come to England for Christmas this year and I'm obliged to spend time with her, even if she is barmier than a bowtruckle in water."

"Mags, that's unkind," Lily said softly.

Margot sighed heavily. "I know it is, but I can't help it. She's only been getting worse since the war started. Gives her bad memories."

Lily nodded and said nothing further.

The Keller family history was not a mystery to Lily. Margot had explained in full why her mother was so peculiar the first time Lily had met the woman, and even though Mrs Keller had been...well, _horrible_ during that first meeting, Lily could feel nothing but sorry for her.

She settled into a rhythm of cleaning and didn't even realise how much time had passed from their last words until Margot began hitting her heel against the stool rung.

"Sorry to bore you," Lily apologised. "I'm almost done."

"A good Scourgify would get that out in a second," Margot said, not unkindly.

"But it's not nearly so fun."

"Merlin forbid you call this menial labor _fun_."

"I make my own fun," said Lily. She stood, groaning a little as she stretched herself out. "Besides, it builds character."

Margot grinned. "If you build any more character than you already have, the rest of us might cease to amuse you altogether."

"Oh, hush," she said, and took to the somewhat sticky countertops.

Neither of them said anything for a few moments. Lily didn't mind being quiet with Margot—they were certainly comfortable enough with each other—but right now, she wished a little bit that something could distract her from her thoughts other than the repetitive sound of shoe against wood.

Margot sighed loudly. "So..." she began, as if sensing Lily's wants.

"So...what?"

"So, I met someone yesterday."

"Someone or _someone?_" asked Lily.

"_Someone_. We met at Gringotts."

"How romantic."

"Well, yes, it's not exactly Madam Puddifoots, but considering you met _your_ last bloke in an office—"

"Mags."

"All I'm saying is that a little perspective goes a long way."

Lily couldn't help but to smile. "Alright, you got my attention. Who is this mystery man?"

"His name is Robert," said Margot. Lily turned and saw a dreamy smile on her friend's face. "Robert Bell. He's ever so dashing."

"Dashing?" she teased.

"Dashing, in the textbook definition of the word," Margot confirmed. "He's polite, well-dressed, handsome, very clever, and he's got a fantastic smile. Never trust a bloke without a good smile."

"I'll keep that in mind..."

"Anyhow, we're meeting up for dinner on Wednesday."

Lily shook her head. "Am I going to get any _specific_ detail on this bloke?"

"Hmm...let's see," said Margot, pretending to ponder. "Oh, that's right; no!"

"Is he married?"

"No. _Never _trying that again."

"In a relationship with anyone else at all?"

"Merlin's pants, Lily!"

"I have to ask," Lily said apologetically. "You remember what happened the one time I didn't."

Margot rolled her eyes. "First of all, I wasn't even involved with him. We had _one_ conversation about _one_ book, I say we should meet up at Flourish and Blotts, and then that idiot goes and tells his girlfriend that I was flirting with him. Honestly, he wasn't even my type to begin with."

She snorted. "Oh, Mags. Really."

"Well he _wasn't_."

"Moving on; does he work at the Ministry at all?"

"No."

"What _does_ he do?"

"I believe you just broke the rules of the game."

"I didn't realise there _was_ a game," said Lily dryly. She put her elbow into scrubbing away a particularly stubborn patch of grime.

"How long have you known me, Lily?" Margot asked with a toss of her hair.

Lily shrugged. "Fair point. Then, I suppose...is he older than you?"

"Yes."

"Than me?"

"Yes."

"Than Dumbledore?"

"Lily Adelaide Evans—"

"I'm only joking!" she laughed. "All 'rules of the game' aside, how old _is_ this Robert Bell of yours?"

"Fifty-two."

Lily stopped scrubbing. "You're not serious."

"I am!" said Margot defensively. "He's fifty-two years old and doesn't look a day over forty."

"I can't pick out the worst part of that sentence..."

"Oh, you know age doesn't matter," Margot dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Cassie's twelve years younger than Fabian but they get on just fine. Better than fine."

She put the sponge down, unsure of how to approach this. "Mags...I don't mean to sound judgmental—Merlin knows I love you no matter what—but that's more than twice your age."

"I don't see why that has to matter," her friend said seriously. "I _know_ it's unconventional. I'm not stupid. But I haven't felt this way about anyone in _ages_ and letting some silly taboo about different...ages..." Lily suppressed a snicker. "Well, what I mean to say is, it's only a date and I don't intend to marry the man, and even if I did what's the harm?"

"Not _harm_ exactly..."

"What are you so worried about?"

"Men who are older than you..." Lily paused, thinking on how best to phrase this. "They have power in the relationship. They have experience—"

"I _know_, isn't it wonderful?"

"—and they usually want different things than someone our age."

Margot shook her head. "I know you mean well, Lily, but I _am_ seeing him Wednesday whether or not you approve, and I'd rather you encourage me."

"You know I just want you to be happy," she said. "Just be careful, alright?"

"I will. And are you done yet? I see you've stopped scrubbing."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I suppose I am for the day. I have a present for you, by the way. It's not much—Ministry salary, you know—but I thought of you when I saw it."

"I'm sure to love it."

Lily grabbed her wand off the counter and silently Summoned the present from her bottom dresser drawer. The wrapped bundle came zooming in, and Lily caught it before it could fly into her chest.

Margot reached out for the present eagerly, ripping it open with as much vigor as a small child.

"Oh, Lily," she gasped when she pulled out the necklace. "Oh, it's perfect!"

"It's not high quality," Lily said with some embarrassment. "The metal isn't precious at all, and the gems are just transfigured rocks—"

"Lily, it's from you!" exclaimed Margot. "That makes it high quality."

"Thank you," she answered awkwardly. "I...well, I'm glad you like it."

The blonde grinned widely. "Yes, of course I do. And I have a present for you, as well, though it's not here, and it's not quite finished. I worked on it a bit yesterday—do you remember that time I took your and Cassie's measurements?"

"Yes..." Lily said, the memory vague.

"Well, I was designing you both some lovely dresses, and then Lucy told me you were off to Hogwarts and I thought, well, I simply _couldn't_ let you leave London without some proper new robes, so I drew some up and I'm just picking out the fabric. If you have time off tomorrow at all, come visit the shop and we can make the perfect set. Your dress will just wait until your birthday."

"Oh, Mags..." She felt terribly guilty. "Margot, that's just too much! I can't accept that from you!"

"Don't you dare, Lily Evans," said Margot, frowning. "I love designing for my friends, and you are my _best _friend. It's fun for me, and don't you dare tell me I mustn't."

Lily shook her head. "It's just not equal at all," she said, trying to explain. Margot had grown up with money, whereas Lily had not, and Margot didn't understand what it was to receive an expensive gift without being able to reciprocate. "I gave you some cheap necklace and you're offering me a wardrobe."

"Because I want to!" insisted her friend. "Lily, it has nothing to do with price. I'm designing it with or without you, and you'll take it and say thank you because it is a _gift_."

She sighed, feeling utterly wretched. "Oh...help me pack then," she told Margot. "And I'll find something to give you of mine, otherwise I'll feel like I'm in your debt."

Margot slid off the stood and followed Lily out of the kitchen. "Alright. But only because I came over here to do just that, and I really don't need anything from you."

Lily rolled her eyes as they entered her bedroom. "If you like." She changed subjects hastily to avoid a spat, saying, "I was planning on using an Undetectable Extension Charm, or perhaps a Dual Compartment spell."

"Can you make rooms in an Extension Charm?"

She shook her head. "Not really. You can organise it but it's a bit of a waste since one good shake can tumble everything together."

"Dual Compartment," Margot said decisively. "Books and clothes should never be packed together if you can help it. They seem to tear at each other when left to their own devices."

"This is why we're friends," said Lily. She Summoned her old trunk from the closet and set it down on the foot of her bed, pursing her lips. "I don't suppose you've got any good glamour spells to put over this thing?"

"As if you don't, Madam Charms Professor."

"Yes, but you're the more sophisticated of us," she returned. "I bet you know all sorts of little tricks for wears and tears hidden up your sleeve. Out with it."

Margot wore an amused smile. "Fine, then. But I shan't tell you what it is." She stepped to the trunk and tapped her wand on it once, twice, three times…and the faded brown returned to its former richness, the gold metal shining once more. It looked just the same as the day she'd bought it in Diagon Alley fourteen years ago.

Lily took her own wand to the restored trunk, and began the complex bit of magic that was involved in Dual Compartment spells. Essentially, it was creating alternate spaces, like a room that was only there part of the time. Creating something that fluctuated in and out of being and making it stable required no small amount of concentration and conviction.

After what Lily hoped was a successful spellcasting, she put her wand down. "I was thinking books first," she said. "As a professor and all, they really should come first."

"As a designer, I'll tell you clothes should _always_ come first," Margot disagreed cheerfully. "You can teach without a book if you must, but heaven forbid you have a book and no clothes."

"Depends on what you're teaching."

"You randy little witch."

* * *

"And you're absolutely sure?"

Lily smiled. "You know, my answer won't change just because you keep asking me," she said. She looked back down at the stacks of parchment she was sorting out. Lily had long kept the habit of saving every bit of paper she used on the off chance that it would become useful again, a behavior acquired during her studies at Hogwarts. Now that she was clearing out her desk, Lily thought perhaps she might need to revise her practices.

"Well, I hate to lose you," said Milicent Bagnold.

"I'm only gone for the year," Lily assured her, then frowned. "I _can_ come back after the year, can't I?"

"That's what we agreed."

"Good," Lily said with some relief.

Bagnold frowned in apparent confusion. "If you're so keen to come back to the Ministry, why go to Hogwarts at all?"

"Dumbledore asked me," she said. "I'm a Muggle-born; I owe him my entire education, plus the recommendation to you to get me started at the Ministry."

"To be honest, it was Horace Slughorn that got you the job," Bagnold told her. "The man's never led me wrong about a student before. So you don't owe him that. Besides, I like having you here. I trust you, Evans."

Lily grinned at the woman.

Milicent Bagnold—short, thin, and dark—was the Principal Staff Officer, which allotted her a certain amount of control over the Head of Departments. To say Bagnold held most of the power of the Ministry in her hand would not be far off the mark.

And she was, at least in Lily's estimation, a decent woman. Bagnold was not only a smart and exceptionally skilled witch, she was also fair and believed in giving anyone who had talent, no matter what their heritage was, a chance to prove themselves useful. Lily counted herself lucky to get on with Bagnold so comfortably.

"I do want to come back," Lily said honestly. "I don't fancy working with children for more than a year, if that. But after...well, what happened in Ottery St. Catchpole...I mean to say—"

"I know," said Bagnold, her voice gentle. "It's enough to make anyone lose their stomach for this fight. But we need to keep fighting, and if teaching for a year is what you need to come back to us then that's what you'll do. I just want you to know if you're sure about this."

"Yes, I am."

"Once you start, you can't decide to quit if you don't like it," the older woman warned. "That's a year."

Lily nodded. "I keep my promises," she said. There was only ever one promise Lily had backed out of, and it was due to the other person involved entirely. It was a point of pride with her.

"Do you need any help with this, then?" Bagnold asked, gesturing to the half-packed desk.

"Oh, no," said Lily. "I'm sure you have better things to do on New Year's Eve than box up my cubicle."

"You overestimate me," Bagnold said, smiling, "But I'll leave you be. Owl me when Slughorn has one of his little get-togethers."

She began to back out of the small cubicle, but stopped abruptly.

Lily looked up and saw that Bagnold's exit was blocked by Trust. His hands were gripping both sides of the doorframe as if he had just caught himself against it; indeed, he seemed flushed and slightly out of breath.

"Evans," he said in a low, measured voice, "we've been called in."

Her throat tightened. "What? Why?"

"There's something happening in a Muggle neighborhood," Trust explained. It was remarkable how he sounded calmest when truly upset. "Grab your wand and follow me."

Lily glanced at Bagnold, whose face was taut with worry. She did not say goodbye to the woman. (No one in the Ministry said goodbye these days. It was bad luck.) All she did was drop the stacks of papers in her hands and pick up her wand, nodding at Bagnold on her way past into the corridor.

"What do we know?" Lily asked.

"I got word three minutes ago that a neighborhood in Surrey is under attack," said Trust. Lily struggled to keep up with his brisk pace. "Meg's sending word across the Floo network; Holmes and Lennox were already here. They're meeting us in the Atrium. Same with the Prewett set."

She halted for a moment, then scrambled forward to ask, "Aurors?"

"Yeah, Aurors." Trust looked grim. "Like I said, we don't know the nature of the attack, but three Traces were set off, and all by defensive magic."

"Underage magic?" Lily frowned in confusion, trying to ignore that little tingle of fear running up her spine. "How does that—"

"Around the same time, an alarm rigged to go off at the Ministry started going mad," he continued, effectively ignoring her. "A Wizarding house. The alarm was to protect the residents from Dark Magic, and if it went off, that means something very dangerous got through the barriers. And if three separate Traces indicated defensive magic—"

Lily and Trust began to sprint toward the lifts as they saw one about to close. "Hold it!" Lily shouted desperately, and a hand swung out to stop the doors from touching.

Kieran's head poked out. "Hurry up!" he snapped. "Merlin and Morgana, the two of you move like—"

"Not now, Holmes," said Trust, and there was no arguing with the man when he was that calm and collected. They entered the lift and watched as the doors closed with an agonising slowness. "Now, the first thing I want you to do is grab your partner. If they're not here yet, wait on them. As soon as we're all together, the twelve of us will the alley closest to the house where the alarm was set off."

"Is there a map?" asked Kieran.

"What sort of a question is that?" asked Trust. "Of course there's a map."

"Well it doesn't hurt to ask—"

"Since it's such a stupid question—"

"And we suspect the attack is spread throughout the neighborhood?" Lily interrupted, wholly uninterested in watching the two men bicker at a time like this.

Trust nodded. "At least a square mile so far as we know."

"Merlin's pants," hissed Kieran. "Kids are fighting something while we're riding around in an elevator. I feel bloody useless."

"We can't go charging in without the full Squad," said Trust, "but believe me, Holmes, I understand."

Lily began tapping the fingers of her free hand against her thigh (the one _not_ gripping her wand so hard it was in danger of snapping). Seconds felt like hours, and the minute it took to get from the second floor was as long as a lifetime.

Trust led the two of them out of the lift, both jogging to keep up.

By one of the Floo fireplaces stood Meg MacMillan, hunched over a table that looked as if it were conjured by Lennox, who was at her right side. On the other side of Meg hovered Gideon and Gloria Shacklebolt, the senior of what the rest of the Ministry called "the Prewett set".

"I can't seem to reach Whitby," said Meg as soon as they got close. A map spread out over the length of the table top. "Kieran, do you have any way of contacting him for emergencies?"

"He said he and the missus were out to dinner tonight," said Kieran. "I can grab him and be back in a minute."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Kieran threw an eye-roll at Trust before turning on his heel and Disapparating with a loud _pop_.

"Sh-should we call in a full Obliviator Squad?" Lennox asked.

"Not yet," said Trust, shaking his head. "Let's contain the situation first. Shacklebolt, where are your other two?"

"Fabian's on a date," answered Gideon. His eyes were fixed on the map as he drew lines upon the thick parchment. "I sent him a message. It won't be long."

"Robards had the night off so I can't account for his whereabouts," Gloria Shacklebolt chimed in. At six feet, she had to stoop to examine Gideon's markings. Her bald head gleamed under the lights in the Atrium. "I got owls to his flat and his parents' house, but it looks like we might have to go without—"

A fireplace flared up a little bit ahead of them. Lily glanced up and felt her chest release a small knot of tension as Dagley stumbled out, coughing and covered in soot. He brushed himself off irritably.

"I hate Floo travel," he grumbled. He met Lily's eyes and hurried over to her.

"Let's do a briefing now," Trust suggested to Shacklebolt. "If you'd like to take point, as senior employee—"

"Don't call me a senior," she said sharply. "And since you're so damn eager to get this started, you can do the honors, Trust."

Lily and Dagley exchanged small grins in spite of the severity of the situation.

"Very well," said Trust, to his credit seeming only mildly chastised. "If you'll all take a look at this map...oh, budge over, Lennox, there's no need for personal boundaries at time like this—now, if you see here, the neighborhood in question is suburban, with three parks and several alleys. It's a recent Muggle construction, built within the last ten years."

"The alarm on the Wizarding residence went off here—" Meg pointed to a spot on the west side of the neighborhood with her wand, marking the house with a glowing red spot, "—and the Traces went off when the underage witches or wizards in question—"

A _pop_ that signaled Apparition nearly had Lily jumping out of her skin, not that it was such a large feat at the moment, what with her nerves in such a wired state. She didn't glance behind her, trusting Shacklebolt's quick and dismissive check. Seconds later, a fireplace roared to life and two distinctly male voices coughed soot out of their lungs.

"As I was saying," Meg continued, raising her voice so that the newcomers could hear, "the three Traces of underage magic went off in these separate locations." She touched the map with her wand to leave more glowing marks, one at a location near the park in the middle, one several blocks away to the west, and the third directly on top of the alarm. The three new marks were almost in a straight line, as if in trajectory...

Lily frowned, hardly noticing when a body squeezed between her and Trust on her left. Dagley moved in closer on her right, presumably to make more room for the two others.

"Did the Traces go off simultaneously?" she asked, pulling out her own wand from her pocket.

"Nearly," answered Meg. "The monitors received them all within almost a minute of each other."

"Is it possible the kids were just playing around?" asked John. Lily glanced up and realized he had been the person edging in beside her. "Kids play sometimes when they shouldn't, and that might have triggered the alarm."

"It's possible, yes, but not likely," said Shacklebolt, a darkly thoughtful look plaguing her face.

"Besides, they'd all be in bed at this time, not up and about," Meg interceded.

Lily shook her head. "No, they would be. It's New Year's Eve. But here's the thing..." Her wand lowered and tapped the first mark softly, the one that matched up with the Wizarding alarm. "Was this the first Trace that went off, Meg?" Behind her, another _pop_ went off, but she was focusing more on her squad member's face.

Meg's eyes were narrowed and unseeing; Lily could almost see the same thought that had occurred to her blossoming in Meg's head. And then a bit of blood drained out of her face as she understood what Lily was trying to get at. That paleness confirmed for Lily what she'd been suspecting and she was nearly certain her complexion was similarly white.

"It was," Meg said tersely.

"And then this one?"

"Yes."

Lily drew a line between the three, starting with the one in the park and outward, passing the third mark and continuing on. A faint gold glimmer followed her wand tip as she drew to her destination. There was a church on the west edge of the neighborhood, boldly marked on the map. And beyond the church was a cemetery.

For a brief moment the rest of the assembled team paused to reach the same conclusion as Lily and Meg.

"Prewetts, I want you coming near the middle," said Shacklebolt. Lily glanced up and was surprised to see Fabian standing next to his brother, as if he'd been there the whole time. She looked around and saw the return of Kieran along with newcomer Lucy, both pressing in around the table on Meg's left. "Robards won't be showing up tonight, so I'll latch onto Trust and his partner."

"Meg, you and Grant are with them," Trust shot off, not to be outdone. "Contain the area. Whatever the hell that is, it's moving fast and we've got Muggles and scared children out there. Holmes and Whitby, you're with me. Evans and Dagley, you're with the Prewetts too."

"If anything goes horribly wrong, head to the house with the Wizarding alarm," Shacklebolt continued. "Chances are you'll find sanctuary with a witch or wizard instead of breaching the International Statue of Secrecy. Always, _always_ stay with your partner. You lot know the rules."

"Stay safe," Meg said to Trust. Lily watched the pair of them. She couldn't help but wonder what torture it must be to love someone and not fight by their side. Of course, if Lily ever loved someone (and Tim didn't really count), she wouldn't want them fighting alongside her in the first place.

Trust's group began Apparating, with a loud succession of _pops_ that echoed through the silent Atrium.

Lily cast her eyes toward Gideon and then to Dagley, who met her gaze with his own. They nodded to each other and, as if they'd practised it together many times before, they both turned on their heels and Disapparated.

* * *

The moment Lily Apparated into their designated alley she knew something was horribly wrong. Worse than a simple Follower attack (if there was such a thing), and worse than Lily had been expecting. The very night framed itself as a horror, with the moon only a sliver and the stars faint through a thin layer of clouds.

And it was fortunate the light from both moon and stars were so absent, because otherwise they might not have noticed so easily the other, more frightening tell that all was not peaceful on this good night.

"Why aren't there any street lights?" asked Lucy hesitantly. "And the lights in the houses…shouldn't there be lights on inside the homes?"

"You'd think Muggles would be smart enough to keep their street lights on in an attack, stead've shutting them off," said Fabian. He raised his wand warily, stepping forward to peer around the corner. "See what they're up against and all."

"They are," said Lily, somewhat cross. "Just because they can't do magic doesn't mean they're full of bricks for brains, you arse."

"Calm down, Evans," said Dagley as he stepped up to join Fabian on point. "This one's not far from pureblood idiots spouting off about what they don't know; some of that's got to have sunk in."

"Not hardly," Fabian muttered, as if distracted. "I mean to say, you'd figure Muggles smart enough to keep the street lights on, so why are they off?"

Gideon nodded and moved forward to join his brother and Dagley as they approached the mouth of the alley. All three men's wands were raised in wariness of an attack. "You ladies coming or what?" he said over his shoulder.

"I'd rather let you find out what we're getting into and then ably prepare myself than barrel forward with no warning," said Lucy.

"And if you die in the discovery, take comfort in the knowledge that your failure will result in our success," Lily added in some amusement.

Gideon turned around exasperatedly, no doubt ready to fire a quip at her in return, but he tripped and nearly landed on his face.

"Oy!" hissed Fabian. "Enough messing around!"

"I'm not," said Gideon slowly as he rolled over into a sitting position. Lily could barely make him out in utter darkness. "There's something on the ground…"

She was tired of squinting. "_Lumos_," she incanted, and aimed the beam of light toward Gideon.

The entire group recoiled in disgust. Gideon scrambled away on his hands and feet; he would have looked rather silly if he weren't trying to get away from a severed arm. It looked as though the arm had been chewed off just above the elbow; it was still oozing blood and steaming slightly in the cold air.

"What the hell?" Meg repeated, before shaking herself. "Lucy, we'll head left. Prewetts, centre. Dagley, you and Lily on the right."

A high-pitched scream wrenched the air.

"That was a kid!" said Fabian as he stretched out a hand to help his brother up.

"Lucy, come on!" Meg and Lucy took off into the darkness, lighting their wands as they went. The Prewetts followed them, Gideon stumbling a bit in his haste to match his brother's speed.

"Dags—"

"I know, I know," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Off we go." Dagley took the lead, jogging out of the alley and making a sharp right. Lily knew from the map that the direction they headed in was furthest away from the cemetery, and therefore least likely to meet whatever it was that came out from it—then again, if a dismembered limb was in their designated alley, there was no telling how far this thing had come.

She glanced at the houses around them, her footfalls slowing, and she began to lag behind Dagley as an intuitive worry seeped through her skin.

It was New Year's Eve, not even midnight yet—surely lights would be on in the houses? Weren't people awake? It had been years since Lily lived as a Muggle but she was certain the tellies would be on across the neighbourhood. Fabian had been right when he'd said Muggles would keep their lights on in an attack, whether they be street lights, porch lights, or even a bulb in the kitchen.

Unless it was something that needed the darkness. Unless this was part of the attack.

Lily hadn't heard of wizards messing with Muggle technology, since most of the Followers believed themselves superior to such things. That sort of forethought meant that a half-blood, or at least a wizard versed in Muggle Studies—

Something caught her eye to the left.

"Dags!" she called out harshly. "Dags, stop!"

"What?" he snapped, but she could hear the sounds of his jogging cease. "Lily, we've got to keep—"

Lily raised her wand and shouted, "_Reducto!_"

The creature she'd aimed at shrieked (or was it moaned? Keened?) as it blew apart. She rushed forward before her spell had even finished, clomping up the wide steps to the quaint front porch and nearly slipped in the cascading puddle of blood. It dripped down the wooden steps like a polluted waterfall. Lily tried not hard not to gag but felt her chest heave despite her best efforts. She put a hand over her mouth.

The man whose blood was pooling down the steps was still alive; he was gasping in loud, raspy breaths for air and though unable to move seemed more than willing to fight for his life. Lily tried not to look at his half-eaten leg for too long; he could not see the extent of the damage and the expression on her face would not help.

She aimed her wand toward the sky and shot up red sparks—a signal for medical attention at the earliest possible moment. Lily had a sinking suspicion that she was not the first to send up red sparks but daren't look at the sky to see just how many casualties had been discovered…and how many were to follow.

"It's alright now," she told the man soothingly. She fought against the still present urge to heave at the sight and smell. "It's gone."

"It…what?" he croaked.

"Someone will be by to explain everything," Lily promised.

She heard the clatter of boots on the porch steps behind her. "Merlin's pants," gasped Dagley. "Jesus, Evans, what's happened here?"

"Wait a moment," she warned. To the man she said, "Are there any more of them about? Just point to show me where they've gone."

"There," he rasped, pointing to the alley across the street. "Leads…park. Son…"

Lily's heart dropped. "We'll help your son, I promise," she whispered, "but we'll have to leave you. Someone will be by soon to take care of you; will you be alright until then?"

The man nodded slowly, as if the act cost him a great effort—and Lily knew that it must have. The pain he was most likely experiencing had her stomach rolling in sympathy.

"Dags, come on," she said, standing from her crouch. She marched down the steps—albeit with caution—and extended her wand before her nervously. If her hand was shaking hard enough for Dagley to see...well, she had every right to a trembling hand after seeing that, and he'd seen her shaken before anyhow. This time, it was he who followed her lead as they ran down the alley the man had pointed toward.

"Evans, what was it?" he demanded once they were out of the wounded man's earshot.

"And Inferius," she replied shortly.

Dagley nearly stumbled. "Jesus Christ," he swore. "And you think there's more than one? They don't exactly travel in packs, what with the eating of each other's—"

"Yes, thank you, that's exactly the thought I wish to be having right now," Lily snapped as her stomach rolled again. "He said there was another. Probably two. They're what came out of—shit!"

She stopped and shone her light on a spatter of blood against the alley all.

"Don't," said Dagley, and put a hand to her shoulder. She let the warmth of his touch linger. "Don't think like that. Even first years should know how to use a Shield Charm."

"That won't do them much good if they're paralysed with fear," she replied. "And…and not all of them are witches and wizards."

But he was right; imagining what reasons there might be for that splash of blood on the wall would only get her caught up in her head and not thinking straight, which was what she needed to be doing right now.

Dagley squeezed her shoulder before letting go. "Let's move, Lily."

Hearing her given name from him resonated enough for her to put one foot in front of another. She began to run again, ignoring the growing cramp in her side and shortness of breath.

The alley let out into a park, a winding path cutting through the snow-covered hills. Ahead of them stood a crop of trees with a dusting of snow on the fir branches. The sliver of moonlight, pointless until now, reflected off the white snow enough to lessen her squint into the darkness. For the first time that night, Lily could see her breath on the air and realised it was icy cold outside.

She lifted her wand and shone it to the left in a search pattern while Dagley did the same on the right. There was a trail cutting close to them on the left, she saw, marked several small footprints winding their way to the tree line. Dagley nudged her and pointed at a separate trail…one with long lines instead of footprints. Dragging feet, a mark of an Inferius.

Her heart raced with a mix of adrenaline and fear.

"Go on ahead," he whispered. "I'll cover you from behind."

Lily nodded and ran into the trees. She could hear only the blood pounding in her ears and her footfalls and hoped Dagley wasn't too far off, so that he could tell her if something was coming up behind her.

The thought nestled into her chest and she felt a tingling sensation on her neck. She spun pointing her wandlight frantically in all directions. It was impossible to tell if a looming figure was a tree or a monster at first glance and that uncertainty only increased her fear. Her chest convulsed in deep, shaky breaths that she could not reign in.

A cold hand grabbed her shoulder. Something moaned by her ear.

"No!" she shrieked, and tried to pull away.

The hand gripped tighter.

"_Reducto!_"

The blast pushed her to the snow-covered ground. The wind was knocked from her as her gut collided with a tree root and she wheezed, desperate to gain control over her body once more.

"You alright?"

Lily blinked. Was that…

A hand extended down to her, open and waiting for her to grab hold. She reached up with a trembling arm and let Gideon Prewett haul her to her feet.

"Lost your cool a bit, hmm?" he said, brushing at her front forcefully. Clumps of dirt and snow fell off her from his movements. "Sorry we used you as bait but, er, it was necessary."

He pointed up; she followed the direction of his finger.

Three children sat on a large tree branch above them, two small boys and one girl with a wand gripped tightly in her hand.

"I can't get down," the girl told them in a quiet, anxious voice. "I can't let go of it."

"I know, you've said," Gideon answered brusquely. "Fab? You still there?"

"Area's secure for now," Fabian called, striding through a couple of trees to join them. The tightness of fear in Lily's chest began to relax at the sight of him. "Lily? Where did you come from?"

"She's my bait," said Gideon.

Lily pursed her lips; her chest still ached from her fall to the ground.

"What's your name?" she called up to the small girl, ignoring both twins. She didn't want to look at Gideon; if she did, he might see how furious she was. How could he _blow up_ an Inferius right in front of the children? What on earth was he thinking?

"An…Annie," the girl managed. "Annie Miyamura."

Lily smiled up at her. "My name is Lily Evans. This is Gideon Prewett and his brother Fabian. We're from the Ministry, so you're going to be safe now," she promised. "Fabian's going to climb up and get you three, alright?"

"Alright," Annie agreed in a whisper.

"I am?" muttered Fabian.

Lily shot him a look before turning her attention back to the children. "Annie, you've done a good thing tonight," she told the girl. "Climbing up where they can't get you? You must be very smart. Are you in fourth year? Fifth?"

Annie cracked a tentative smile. "Second."

"Second?" Lily gaped in comic exaggeration, which prompted Annie's smile to grow slightly. In all honesty, she'd thought the girl was in first year. "That's very impressive, then! You'll definitely get loads of house points for tonight. What house are you in?"

Fabian had made it to the children. Lily watched as the smallest boy slung himself around Fabian's neck and the older boy (still younger than Annie) positioned himself to follow Fabian down the tree, where Gideon waited at the bottom to catch him. Lily could just catch the sounds of Fabian's reassuring words to the boys.

"Gryffindor," said Annie. "I'm in Gryffindor."

"I should have guessed," Lily grinned. "You're such a brave girl. You know, I was in Gryffindor, too."

"Really?"

The boys were on the ground now. Fabian lowered the smaller boy from his hold and the child immediately clung to the other boy. Lily could see now they looked similar to each other, brothers or cousins most likely. She wondered if one of them was the son of the man she'd found earlier. Gideon shepherded the two boys away from the tree trunk as Fabian went back up to get Annie.

"Really," Lily confirmed. "So was Fabian, there. Gideon was in Ravenclaw, though."

"'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure,'" Gideon recited, his voice puffing out into the frozen air.

Fabian eased himself up to Annie's branch. "Come here now, lassie, let's get you down." He took Annie in his arms carefully.

Lily turned to Gideon and the children at his feet. "What about you two?" she asked the small boys. "Do you know what Hogwarts is?"

Both of them shook their heads with eyes wide and full of terror.

Her heart began to sink. "That's alright," she promised them. "That's just fine. We'll—"

A loud _bang!_ sounded from the town. Lily whipped her head to peer through the trees and could just make out something flickering past the branches.

"What the hell?" Fabian said, coming to stand beside her.

"No idea," she murmured.

A small hand tucked into hers. Lily glanced down and saw Annie staring up at her with a tear-streaked face. She tightened her grip on both her wand and Annie's hand. Perhaps she wasn't a professor of Hogwarts yet, but this girl would be her student soon and Lily was swarmed with an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

"This is a bad place to be," Gideon announced. "We've got no visibility; Inferi could sneak up on us from any direction."

"I don't understand how there's more than one," insisted Fabian. "We've killed at least three, there shouldn't be anymore!"

"But there are," Lily pointed out.

"Is this the time?" snapped Gideon. "Let's get everyone to safety first, then we'll talk about Inferi, yeah?"

Fabian blew out a frustrated sigh. "Head to the clearing. We need to see what we're dealing with."

Gideon scooped up the smaller boy and slung him over his shoulder, Fabian hurrying forward to do the same with the other boy. Lily kept her grip on Annie and followed them, keeping her lit wand up and ready as they headed toward the light beyond the trees.

When they reached the tree line, the twins lurched to a halt. Lily swung to their left and looked out—and wished she hadn't as Annie whimpered beside her.

Thick, dark smoke billowed upwards and out in a mushroom shape as a house burned below it, hot and bright, so bright that Lily could see all around her. She saw the snow-coated hills in perfect clarity, and what cast the shadows on them.

"They must have smelled us," she murmured.

"Nah, they're running away from the fire," Gideon argued. "They've got to know it'll kill them."

_The children were safer in the tree_, she realised grimly.

"How many d'you reckon?" Fabian grunted.

"Oh, about six or so," she offered in what was supposed to be a flippant tone. She _couldn't_ lose her cool again, not now, not when Annie Miyamura was depending on her like this. But it was hard to ignore the cold squeezing her chest, the renewed panic at seeing so many Inferi together.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Inferi weren't supposed to attack in groups.

"Boys," Gideon said bracingly, "I'm sorry about this. If it makes you feel any better, you won't remember a thing. Not a thing."

"Gid!" Lily and Fabian scolded together.

"They won't remember that, either."

For the shortest of moments, Lily nearly (_nearly_) forgot about the danger they were in and rolled her eyes.

"We've got to keep them back," Fabian said. "Lily, get a Shield Charm up _now_. Gid, offensive attacks, I'll take the boy."

Lily brought up her spell, heart pounding. One of the Inferi was lurching forward in the snow, dragging its feet slowly but surely towards them. Just as it neared the perimeter of her Shield, a stream of blue fire blasted out to meet it. The Inferius burned up quickly but managed to release a death keen before turning to ash.

"Damn it, Gid!" Lily cried, pulling Annie behind her. "You do realise these are actually temporary defences?"

The Shield Charm was flickering, some of the integrity compromised by Gideon's spell.

"What, did you want it on the Shield?" he snapped back.

"No, but _warn me_ before you blow a hole through my spell!"

"Here's your warning, then!"

Another shot of blue fire went out to meet two Inferi. It forked slightly and managed to engulf both creatures in one blow. Lily gritted her teeth and put all of her intent on keeping the Shield whole despite the damage. A sheen of sweat started to form upon her brow and instantly froze in the cold night air. She shivered.

"I can't keep this up forever," she shouted to Fabian.

"I know! I—" He turned his whole body to little Annie. "You can do sparks, right? Second year, surely you can send up sparks?"

"I…I can," she answered.

Fabian knelt, both his arms around the boys and holding tightly. "Annie, I want you to send up blue sparks, alright? Loads of them, straight up in the air. Can you do that?"

Lily wasn't looking in Annie's direction, instead putting her focus on her Shield Charm, but Annie must have nodded because Lily felt the integrity of her spell lessen once again and saw sparks shooting beyond the Shield and into the smoky sky.

"Bollocks," she muttered.

It _was_ a good idea—though not recognised by the Ministry as a whole, the D.M.L.E. had devised a system of coloured sparks in the field to signal each other. For example, red was the colour of medical attention, green the presence of Followers, and white was the all-clear. Blue sparks were a call to arms, a sign of duress, and Fabian was alerting the rest of the team to the mass of Inferi headed to their ragtag group.

But the thing was, if Lily couldn't hold the spell long enough for back up to arrive, the sparks would only serve as a beacon to more Inferi in the area. Risky was putting it lightly.

Gideon took aim and sent out more fire to an approaching Inferius, the stream blasting through her spell and lasting too long, past the point of the Inferius' demise…

And her Shield flickered out of existence. Lily screamed through her teeth in terrified frustration.

"Get the charm back up!" Fabian roared as another Inferius staggered forward.

"Shut up!" she yelled, and snapped her wand at the monster. "_Reducto!_"

"_Get it back up!_"

"_PROTEGO!_" Gideon bellowed, encompassing them in another Shield. "Damn," he added as Annie's sparks shot through the top.

Lily scoffed and turned her full attention to the monsters. She dropped Annie's hand and stepped forward, sizing up her choices. There was one on the right that was coming closer…

She raised her wand and prepared to blast the thing to pieces, but a stream of red fire took it out before she could cast her spell.

"You alright?" someone hollered.

Lily squinted; his face was in shadow, but she knew that frame by heart. "John!" she cried out. Her legs went weak with relief and she fell to her knees in the snow. "Annie, you can stop now," she told the girl. "We're going to be alright."

Gideon kept the Shield up as John (and Kieran, running up to join his partner) blasted the rest of the Inferi out of existence. Lily watched and felt her body shake with leftover adrenaline and fear as each monster turned to ash.

"What the hell is going on?" Kieran demanded after the last Inferi went out in blue flames from his wand. Gideon lowered the Shield and Kieran strode up to pull Lily to her feet. "I've never seen so many Inferi in my life—more than one in the same place, at that! Have you seen the town? Muggles everywhere, all ravaged and—"

"_Shush!_" Lily snapped, taking a step to the side and revealing the three children, all of whom were openly crying now that the danger had passed. From the looks of it, the smallest boy had wet himself.

"Merlin and Morgana," Kieran cursed. He put his free hand to his neck and rubbed. "Have you seen any Followers yet?"

"None," she told him, and reached back to grab Annie's hand once more. "Have the Medi-wizards arrived?"

"Yeah," said John as he joined the group. "They showed up just after Shacklebolt blew up that house over there. There were about, what, ten Inferi? And instead of taking them all out she just decided to burn the entire thing and get the monsters all in one go."

"Sounds familiar," said Gideon. "Let's get these kids out of the cold, yeah? And we're going to need an Obliviator Squad at the ready."

Kieran nodded. "One of those are coming in, too, but Lennox is here if it's an emergency."

Lily breathed in the smoky air as they headed toward the burning house. At least there it would be warm, and the children could stop shivering from the cold—though the fear would take longer to shake off.

"You don't have to remember this, Annie," she told the girl beside her. "If you want your memory wiped—"

"No."

She looked down. Annie's face had added a few trails of tears from red-rimmed eyes. Her nose ran, the snot dripping off her upper lip, and her lower lip was bleeding. The girl had chewed on it, Lily realised.

"I'm a witch, aren't I?" she asked Lily in a tremulous voice. "I can't…it isn't…I'm a Gryffindor."

Lily's heart clenched. "You are," she agreed. "Alright. You keep your memories, but if you need to talk to someone about what happened tonight, you can talk to me."

She was going to tell Annie that they'd see each other again in a week, once Lily arrived at Hogwarts, but when she glanced up she saw Trust hurrying towards her.

"I'll take the girl," Gideon said beside her. "Go on."

Lily stepped forward, dropping Annie's hand once again. "Squad Leader," she greeted, fixing a smirk on her face. "Suppose you wanted to start the New Year with a bang, hmm?"

"Evans—"

"Thought you said it'd be a quiet night," she went on. Her chest continued to shake from the stress of the night, but she couldn't show that to him, not now. "I guess it was as a bit dead, wasn't it?"

"Evans," Trust repeated, his voice horribly calm.

She took a good look at him and saw his face was white. "Don't like the Inferi?"

"Listen to me," he told her, and she stopped her teasing. "Listen. Meg and Grant ran into a spot of trouble."

"What?" her heart dropped into her stomach. "Are they—"

"Meg's at St. Mungo's now," said Trust. He crossed his arms. "Grant's with her. But listen, it wasn't serious because—"

"Oh, thank Merlin—"

"—because Dagley got in between Meg and a couple of Inferi. He's in rough shape, Evans, and we've got to get to the hospital right now."

Lily staggered back. "He—"

He was supposed to be right behind her…

_No. No, no, no._

She'd forgotten about him. In the heat of everything, with the children and the Inferius in the trees, she'd forgotten all about him and he'd—

Lily whirled around and fell to the ground, vomiting up the small serving of supper she'd eaten that evening.

* * *

_A heartfelt thanks to everyone who put this story on alert or even favorite after only one chapter! All the support I've gotten so far has been amazing. I especially appreciate your reviews! I can't wait to hear theories for what will happen next ;) Writing action scenes aren't my strong suit, but I'd like to think I'm getting better at it. What say you?_


	3. Of Revelations and Arrivals

**A Matter of Timing**

**Chapter Three  
Of Revelations and Arrivals**

It had only taken several minutes for Lily to decide that she hated the Visitor's Room.

She'd come to this decision six years ago, when Cassie was in an accident while on an exercise with the rest of the first year Aurors-in-training. Lily had been Cassie's flatmate and emergency contact at the time (since it would take something past a miracle for Cassie to contact her parents) and had rushed herself over to the Hospital, only to find herself presented with tea and shoddy scones for hours on end with no news about her friend.

On the few occasions Lily had come to St. Mungo's since then, she'd either avoided the Visitor's Room with impressive results or had been the one in need of visiting.

She found that, even after six years, the room had yet to improve itself.

When she and Trust had arrived in the lobby, the Welcome Witch situated at the front desk had sent them straight up to the Visitor's Room. "A Healer will be along shortly," she'd told them in a dull, unfeeling voice that had Lily nearly strangling the woman.

It had been hours, and "shortly" was looking less and less likely.

With nothing to occupy her time except staring at the horrible walls—not even the wretched tea and scones were available at this hour of the morning—Lily sunk into thoughts about the night's events.

At the tip of a hat, she'd forgotten all about Dagley, her _partner_, and gone along with the Prewetts. The one person she was supposed to look out for had been left to fend for himself, all because she wanted to follow the twins—and for what? Glory? A chance to save a couple of children? The pair of them would have managed fine; two renowned Aurors like them didn't need the assistance of a Hit Wizard like her.

She'd broken the trust, both tonight and the moment she sent that owl off to Hogwarts. If it had been the other way around—had she been separated, and Dagley found by another team—he wouldn't have hesitated for a moment to go find her. Because Peter Dagley always had her back no matter what. Because he was a good man.

And now Dagley was lying in a hospital bed with injuries she barely could grasp the scope of. And it was entirely her fault.

She glanced over at Trust, who sat slumped with his head in his hands.

An hour into their vigil, Trust had told Lily to get some sleep. "It might be hours before we hear anything," he'd said calmly. "Best just close your eyes. I'll wake you if anything happens." It had been a nice gesture from him, but she suspected he knew how hollow an offer it was. There was no possibility of sleep while Dagley's life hung in the balance.

Did he blame her for this?

Lily knew that, underneath all of Trust's bluster and brusque admonitions toward First Muggle Squad, he held the safety of the seven under his command as a high priority. He cared about them more than any other boss Lily ever worked under at the Ministry. That Dagley had been so grievously injured by a decision _she_ had made…

"Quit staring," Trust grumbled, his voice muffled in his palms. "It's giving me hives."

"Sorry," she said quickly, looking away.

Trust sighed and leaned back into his seat, removing his hands from his face. "Merlin's pants."

"I'm sorry," repeated Lily.

"Not _you_, Evans," he snapped, though his voice held less than his usual bite. "This waiting. It's bollocks."

She nodded, unable to find anything else to say that would not echo his words. They didn't move again for minutes that felt like hours.

Despite herself, despite all the worry and stress and guilt plaguing her, Lily felt her eyes begin to droop from lack of sleep. She hadn't realised the extent of her exhaustion until the heaviness in her head pulled her chin forward into a slump. It had been nearly a day since Lily had slept, and on top of that, a day full of activity. Packing up her office, her flat, chasing down Inferi and rescuing small children—

Merlin and Morgana, her life felt so surreal sometimes.

The door to the Visitor's Room opened slowly. Both Lily and Trust leapt out of their seats, on Lily's part with a wince at how stiff her legs were, waiting to hear news of Dagley from the Healer who had _finally_ decided to show up. However, it was not a Healer at the door.

John entered first, looking around the small, horrid room before his eyes landed on Lily. He went over and hugged her tightly, a gesture she returned with gratitude. He smelled disgustingly of smoke and burnt flesh, but Lily ignored his stench and focused instead on trying not to cry. When she pulled away, she flashed him a small, empty smile.

Kieran and Lennox filed in after. Kieran had his hands in his pockets and moved toward a plush seat without a word to anyone. It was one of the few times Kieran Holmes had adopted a serious expression. Lennox also collapsed into a chair, though he looked far more exhausted than the rest of them. Lily watched Lennox take off his glasses and rub at his eyes.

"Meg," Trust said hoarsely. When she didn't come in, he repeated himself in a firmer tone. "Meg, are you there?"

The brunette shuffled into the Visitor's Room miserably.

It was apparent to everyone that Meg had been crying; her face was splotchy and her eyes were rimmed with red. Lucy accompanied her, a careful hand outstretched in case Meg might fall over. Indeed, she looked awfully pale, made even more apparent by the bandage on her left forearm.

Dagley had been all alone, and he'd jumped in to save Meg. Lily's chest tightened.

Trust strode over to the two women.

"I'm sorry," Meg croaked. She took a step back from Trust. "I'm sorry, Joe."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "Shush. You're alright, that's what matters."

The rest of them, Lucy included, carefully looked elsewhere until the two were done. None of First Muggle Squad had come up with a viable alternative to awkwardly standing about when Meg and Trust had a moment.

Thankfully, Trust didn't often publicly display affection at all, so the embrace was short-lived.

"I'm sorry," Meg echoed, her voice subdued. "I shouldn't have let my guard down. If I'd just been paying attention Dagley wouldn't have had to—"

"I should never have agreed to this mission in the first place," Trust answered, sounding pained. "We weren't on call. We weren't prepared. It's my fault this happened. Don't worry yourself."

Lily shook her head and snorted in derision.

Trust turned slowly in her direction. "Something to say, Evans?" he said in a dangerously pleasant tone.

She rolled her eyes at him. "You two are so _stupid_," she snapped. "Stop trying to make each other feel better. You can't make each other feel better about this because it's all shit. Just because you're _sorry_ doesn't make anything different. You can't _do_ anything about it now."

"Evans—" Trust started.

"Lily—" said John worriedly.

"Dagley's hurt," Lily spoke over them. To her dismay, tears began to well up in her eyes. She willed them to go away. "He's _hurt_ and it's because I fucked up and left him. So going around taking the blame for it is stupid and won't do him any good. Just _stop_. Stop trying to—"

"It's not your fault, Lily," John said over her.

"Shut up," she cried. So what if she was making everyone in the Visitor's Room uncomfortable? She hated the Visitor's Room, anyway. "Shut up, John, you have no idea, you don't—"

"I would have made the same call," Lucy interrupted. Her face fell as everyone turned to look at her. "I would have," she continued defensively. "Helpless kids, all alone, surrounded by Inferi? I would've put them at top priority. Maybe I would've looked for my partner at the same time, but hindsight only gets you so far. You did the best you could, Evans."

Lily shook her head. "I left him _alone_," she reminded everyone. "Alone! There were Inferi crawling all over that park—"

"We have a job to look after the innocents first," Lucy pointed out. "We're supposed to put them over ourselves, and he knows that. Dagley can take care of himself, it's not your or Meg's fault that the Inferi got him—"

"Let's just agree that this night was a mess," Trust called out loudly.

"No," Lily argued, her voice a whisper. "No."

Why couldn't they see she was to blame here? Why wasn't anyone yelling at her for abandoning her partner and leaving him to…to…

John wrapped her up in a hug once more, but she shrugged him off as the door to the Visitor's Room swung open again and admitted, finally, a Healer.

"You're here for Peter Dagley?" the Healer asked. He was an older wizard, bits of gray showing in his cropped hair.

Trust stepped forward. "I'm his Squad Leader at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he answered in his most official voice. "I'm in charge of his well-being on assignment."

"Well, you'll be glad to know that Mr Dagley is out of the woods," said the Healer. "We expect him to make a full recovery."

The Squad let out a collective sigh of relief. Lily put a hand to her heart and sucked in the air she didn't know she'd been lacking, and her limbs turned to jelly as she relaxed.

_Full recovery._ Thank Merlin…she hadn't destroyed Dagley's life after all.

Lily stepped forward. "Can we see him?" she asked.

The Healer looked toward Trust. "We would like to limit his guests to one at a time," he answered slowly, "since he is still recovering. We don't want to overwhelm him. In fact, he should really be resting right now."

"Evans can go in with him," Trust decided after a moment's consideration. "She's leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow…this morning, I suppose. The rest of us can just come back later today."

The reminder that Lily would be leaving so soon came like a punch in the stomach. She'd just abandoned Dagley hours before and now, here she was again, getting ready to leave him behind. A desperate part of her wanted to call the whole thing off and never leave her partner again.

"Evans?"

She glanced up. Trust was looking at her. "Go follow him," he said, jerking his head in the Healer's direction.

Lily saw that he'd turned and was leaving the Visitor's Room. She brushed past Trust and Meg on her way out, wishing there was a way to apologise to them without sounding completely awful, but she couldn't summon the words. She barely had enough energy to trail behind the Healer as he led her down two flights of stairs and past several snoozing portraits.

"He's in here," said the Healer, opening a door on the left side of the corridor they'd been marching down. "End of the room, by the window."

"Thank you," Lily said distractedly. She hurried inside and immediately saw Dagley trying to sit up upon her arrival.

"Evans," he began.

"Stay still," she commanded. "Don't you dare."

Dagley tried to grin, but it ended up more like a grimace as Lily sat down in the chair by his bed. "You look tired," he commented hoarsely.

Lily felt her heart break a little. "And you look a mess. What happened?"

"A couple of Inferi got the drop on me. Always look both ways before crossing the street, eh?" Dagley tried to pass this off as a silly thing, waving his hand in dismissal, but Lily saw the pain in his eyes and the latent fear, and she grabbed his dismissive hand in her own and held tightly.

He looked at their joined hands and back up at Lily, expression unreadable.

"I'm so sorry," she told him. "If I hadn't left—"

"Lily," Dagley whispered. Her heart leapt at hearing her name (her _given_ name) fall out of his lips. "I _chose_ to jump in and help MacMillan because it was the right thing to do. D'you want to take that from me?"

Her breath caught in her throat.

"I make my own decisions," he went on, "and if you want to take responsibility for that I'll fight you for it, yeah? I did what I had to do. So did you. If you want to blame someone, blame the Inferi, or the Followers, or…You Know Who, because it's anyone's fault but yours."

Lily had always known Dagley to be handsome, though she'd never considered herself attracted to him. She wasn't blind. But as she looked at him, Lily saw how sweet his eyes were; saw the fullness of his lips and kindness of his smile. She wondered what it would be like to kiss that smile. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Her hand in his sparked and warmed, sending tingling sensations up her arm and into her stomach.

_Don't be silly, Evans_, she reprimanded herself. Thinking of Dagley like that while he was lying in a sickbed was ridiculously selfish.

"I still feel horrible about it," Lily admitted.

"Please don't—"

"Let me make it up to you," she offered. A wild idea occurred to her. "Come visit me at Hogwarts. When you're well, I mean."

Dagley nodded. "That sounds fun." After a moment he asked, "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow. Today," amended Lily. "Happy New Year's Day, Dags."

"It's 1977," he wondered aloud. "Blimey, time flies when you're getting eaten alive by monsters."

Lily tried to crack a smile but it never formed; she couldn't bear the thought of losing Dagley. It gave her a sharp, deep pain in her chest that left her breathless and near tears once more. Thankfully, Dagley noticed her discomfort and gave her hand a squeeze.

"How long will you stay?" he asked.

She managed a smile now. "As long as I can."

* * *

It was nearly eight o'clock in the morning when Lily left St. Mungo's to retrieve her things from her flat. Dagley had fallen back asleep before the sun rose, but her eyes would not shut. It might have been the guilt keeping her awake and by his bedside. It might have been that warm, unexpected feeling that coursed through her belly when he'd held her hand.

Whatever the reason, the adrenaline still had her by the throat, though she sorely needed to rest.

Before leaving Lily had dropped her spare key on Dagley's bedside table. Before everything had gone to hell last night, Lily planned to drop the key in Dagley's cubicle—his top drawer in the very back, where they always left messages or items (or, on one special occasion, money earned in a bet) for each other. She felt a little sick at the thought.

Every time it seemed the war couldn't get any more grotesque, something came along to set the bar higher.

And the thought of a world without Dagley caused her heart to clench most painfully.

Lily undid the spell around her flat and let herself in, glancing around the sitting room. Most of her books were packed up in her trunk, properly miniaturised and weightless, but a few of her non-essentials still lined the shoddy mantelpiece above her small fireplace. Almost without realising it, she crossed the room and ran her fingers down the spines.

Her thumb caught on one spine, and she looked to see the title: _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_, by Emeric Switch.

That one held a lot of memories. Lily pulled the old textbook from its carefully balanced position and opened it, scanning the margins. Little scribbles such as "_extra force with flicking_" and "_ugh, must work harder on this one_" popped up here and there in her scrawling, childish handwriting. And then there was a page full of notes between her and—

She snapped the book shut and shoved it (possibly harder than necessary) back onto the mantelpiece.

It still hurt to think of Severus Snape, even after all this time.

Lily moved away from the fireplace and into the kitchen, checking her supply of tea. Unlike Lily, Dagley was obsessed with tea. He loved nothing more than sitting down for afternoon tea and crumpets, and if he was to spend the remainder of his recovery in Lily's flat then she would damn well keep a stock of it to outlast a year.

Sadly, she discovered her stash to be somewhat lacking.

"I'll have Margot drop by," Lily murmured to herself, as she was wont to do alone in her own home. "See how he's doing..."

Thinking of Dagley had her stomach contort into a slightly painful, yet pleasant, ball of mush. Less than two weeks before he'd asked her on a date, and at the time Lily had been merely flattered. Now she went all warm at the idea of Peter Dagley handing her a bouquet of flowers or holding her hand or...

Despite her lack of sleep (or perhaps because of it), Lily began to grin like a proper idiot. A small, girlish giggle escaped her and for a moment she had nothing else but the thrill of fresh romance to occupy her.

Her clock chimed lightly at exactly eight o'clock and Lily remembered why she'd come back to her flat rather than staying by Dagley's side.

Slightly ashamed of herself for acting like one of the very schoolchildren she was about to teach for the year, she darted around her home, checking the rest of the kitchen, her bedroom, her bathroom, various closets; checking to see if she would need anything else that hadn't crossed her mind while packing with Margot last week. Thankfully, her friend was a master at packing and only an extra tube of toothpaste joined Lily's things in her trunk.

For a moment she debated keeping her spell up or leaving it open. She wasn't fond of the idea of vandals entering her home while she was away and while Dagley was in St. Mungo's. The last time Lily had left her home open for outsiders, it had taken her a week to scrub away the "Mudblood" spelled on her wall. But that was a different flat, and she'd been meticulous about keeping her home life separate from everything else. At last, she compromised by leaving a specification for the key she'd left Dagley, already attuned to the nature of her spellwork.

Lily pulled her bag behind her down the two flights of stairs in her building (it had been a while since she'd come or gone this way). When she reached the front door she saw through the windows that it was snowing.

"Brill," she muttered to herself. "Just...fucking _fantastic._"

"Miss Evans?"

She turned and saw the guard looking a bit concerned.

"Hello, er, Phillip," she said, just barely remembering his name.

"Miss Evans, are you leaving?" Phillip asked, gesturing to her trunk.

Lily blanched. In all the chaos of the last week, she'd forgotten to alert her landlord and his semi-competent security of her new job, or as much as she could without violating the International Statue of Secrecy. Considering the abominably high rent she would still be paying, Lily wasn't quite sure if she'd needed to inform anyone—especially since subletting wasn't prohibited on her lease.

"Sorry, yes, but not really, no," Lily managed. "I'll post Mr Valtire a letter soon with the details."

Phillip frowned. "Are you dissatisfied with your flat?"

She swallowed a laugh.

It wasn't as though her flat was a penthouse. She simply couldn't afford anything more luxurious than a single-bedroom, single-bathroom abode. As it was, her flat was the nicest place Lily had lived in since living with her parents—as a matter of fact, the only reason she could pay for the place was due to her small shares in her parents' will. And the Evans had never been wealthy.

Dissatisfied? She imagined the cramped professor's quarters at Hogwarts would match the comfort level in her flat.

Nevertheless, she took pity on poor Phillip and answered, "Of course not. I will have Mr Valtire explain everything, but for now, I don't wish to be late."

That was, of course, a lie—but Lily was quite ready to get a move on and standing around chatting with Phillip was the last thing she needed after a sleepless night fraught with stress and debilitating fear. To be perfectly honest, holding a conversation with anyone right now felt much more than Lily could reasonably handle.

"Well then, Miss Evans, have a good...trip?"

She smiled as warmly as possible. "I certainly will. Happy New Year's to you, Phillip."

As Lily headed out the front doors, Phillip called after her, "And to you as well, Miss Evans."

The snow was thankfully only a light drift, but Lily still shivered in the cold air. She hadn't thought to put on a coat before leaving her flat, and Phillip had distracted her in the dingy lobby from the same. Trying very hard not to blame the poor man, Lily threw out her right arm and waited.

It took only a second for an almighty _BANG_ to answer her.

The Knight Bus screeched to a halt a few feet beyond Lily and then wheeled back carefully—or, as carefully as the Knight Bus was capable. Lily waited as the doors squealed open and two young men jumped out in brightly-coloured uniforms. One was only a few years younger than her at the most, and the other must have been around thirteen.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus!" announced the elder of the two. "Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Jerry Japes, and this is my apprentice, Hans, and we will be your conductors for this evening."

"Hello," said Lily wearily. She'd taken the Knight Bus more times than she'd like to admit and had grown somewhat tired of the standard welcome. "I'm off to Hogsmeade."

"Oh, are you?" Jerry wondered. "You don't look much like a student."

"No, I should hope not," she replied, barely keeping herself from snapping at him.

_It's not his fault you're exhausted_, Lily had to tell herself. It was so difficult for her to exist without sleep; she became ill-tempered and easily frustrated. Best for her to just catch a bit of sleep during the trip and hope she didn't attack any students or teachers when she arrived at the school.

"Well, then," Jerry said awkwardly. "Hans, grab her things, will you?" To Lily he added, "That'll be eleven Sickles for the trip, unless you want some hot choc—"

"No, thank you," Lily cut him off. She knew better than to order drinks from the Knight Bus by now. "Just a bed to kip on, if you still have those."

"Oh, yeah, third level's got all the bunks until noon," he told her. "Just head on up. Hans, take those to third, will you?"

Poor Hans, his brow already beginning to sweat as he hoisted Lily's trunk and bag on his back, managed only a nod before climbing onto the Knight Bus. She winced; though she'd made the books weightless, casting the same spell on her clothes might have compromised the integrity of the fabric—at least, according to Margot. Perhaps she should have done it anyway with the way Hans was grunting.

Lily watched him go with some trepidation before turning back to Jerry Japes and fishing out eleven Sickles from her coin purse.

"Alright then, come on board," said Jerry, stepping aside and allowing entrance to Lily. "Charming weather this morning, innit?"

"Charming," Lily agreed dryly. She passed the driver, a middle-aged man named Ernie Prang, and inwardly shuddered at the ride to come. Thankfully, she made it up the two flights of stairs before the Knight Bus started up again, passing a slumping Hans on her way. Her trunk was at the foot of a bed and Lily was pleased to see that no one else was on the third level with her.

Just as she fell onto the slim cot, the bus shot off like a bullet. Lily groaned and pulled a pillow over her head in response.

In the end, she managed to get very little sleep on the trip to Hogsmeade. Unlike some wizards and witches she knew, it was impossible for her to ignore the violent turns and sways the triple-decker had to offer. Perhaps it was because she knew what a real car felt like; certainly the driver had never operated an unmodified car in his life.

As a result, her eyes were burning with exhaustion when she stepped off the bus and her head was pounding in quiet protest, but her journey was not quite done. As tempting as it was to burrow into the mounds of snow on the sides of the main street, Lily steeled herself to begin the long trek up to the gates.

"Oh, no, professor, sir," she muttered sarcastically to herself after several minutes. "No, I'd love to walk up to the castle. Such a lovely path." She snorted in derision. "Honestly, Evans."

When Dumbledore had owled her to inform her of a carriage awaiting her arrival, Lily had been thinking less with her practical mind and more with a misguided sense of nostalgia. _Walking_. How silly of her. Had she left her common sense at her Ministry desk? It was winter in Scotland, for heaven's sake.

At least she'd had the presence of mind to put on a coat before exiting the Knight Bus, thank Merlin.

Lily nearly screamed in frustration when her foot fell through a particularly soggy patch of snow about halfway up the path, soaking her leg nearly up to her knee. As she stumbled, her wand tumbled out of her hand and the trunk floating behind her dropped into the unpacked snow with a loud thump.

"Fine," she said loudly to no one in particular. "You win!"

She bent over and scrabbled about in the snow until her fingers—nearly numb at this point—found purchase on her eleven-and-a-half inch willow wand, and she snatched it up irritably, flexing her hand out as best she could. Lily pointed it in front of her feet and melted away the snow and ice that impeded her path.

Her journey from then on became much slower, though significantly drier, as Lily paused and waited for the water to siphon off from her path, not to mention the effort it took dragging her trunk along behind her by hand while keeping her bag from falling off her shoulder. Really, poor Hans indeed; the weight of her clothes was nothing to sneeze at.

This was _not_ how she'd envisioned arriving at Hogwarts. Lily hadn't expected fanfare and flowers, but she always remembered Hogwarts as warm, the sort of warmth that filled up a person's chest and comforted all ills. Trudging through the snow didn't quite measure up.

But it was her own fault for choosing to walk, after all.

At long last, she caught sight of the large, wrought-iron gates.

They announced Hogwarts impressively, standing aloft and daring any to cross. Lily knew the gates were only a show, however; the real defence of Hogwarts lay in the intricate spellwork around the perimeter. The gates only indicated where the shields around Hogwarts ended. And unless someone was waiting to receive her, Lily wouldn't be able to get in.

Much to her relief, Lily spotted a figure standing inside the premises. "Hello!" she called out, as pleasantly as possible.

"Are you Lily Evans?" the person called back. He was definitely male, and as Lily drew closer she could see a cat winding around his ankles.

"I am," she said, drawing level with the gate.

The man leaned forward. Lily could see he was older than her by perhaps a decade, if not more. His nose glowed an unpleasant red and his face twisted in a scowl that, according to the lines on his face, was probably his default expression. In one mittened hand he clutched a key, and in the other he gripped the handle of the gate.

"Professor Dumbledore said you was a Ministry witch," he said suspiciously. "You don't look like a Ministry witch to me."

"What should I look like, then?" Lily fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Dunno. More official."

"Well, sorry for not looking the part, but I've been up all night on _Ministry business_ and I haven't had the time to make myself presentable," Lily retorted, somewhat more harshly than she'd intended. "Now please, may I enter?"

The sour-looking man sniffed at her. "Alright, then, ma'am."

He inserted the key into a lock that Lily could not see; the air around her shimmered and Lily could feel the magic opening up before her. She couldn't help but to smile up at the castle as if it were an old friend, and when she stepped through the wrought iron gate it was with an overwhelming sense of coming home.

Her escort barely paused to close the door with his key before turning around and stomping up to the castle, cat padding along in his wake with several plaintive meows. Lily followed him in silence, glancing around the snow-covered grounds.

The Quidditch pitch remained the same, though the green grass field was buried under mountains of snow. She could see a group of students having it out with a snowball fight by the lake, hiding under their forts when she and the sour-looking man rounded the bend. There must still be a rule about snow fights, which was a shame. Lily wasn't looking forward to docking points over such a fun game. Past the gamekeeper's cabin she spotted a large tree that had not been there while she was a student. It looked something like a willow and it swished and swayed without any wind to aid it.

"Wipe your feet before you enter the castle, please, ma'am," the man told her as they approached the oak front doors.

"Sorry?" Lily wrenched her attention back to the man, who was holding the door open for her.

"Wipe your feet please," he repeated.

Lily was a bit surprised at the odd request but did as was asked.

"I'll take your things now, ma'am, and show you to your room," he added. "If there's anything you need about here, any students needing to be hung by their ankles in the dungeon for a spell, just let me know and I'll be right on it."

"I rather would speak to the caretaker," Lily said hesitantly as she passed her trunk handle over. "I know Mr Pringle personally."

"That'll be me, ma'am," said the sour-looking man. "I replaced Pringle two years ago as caretaker. The name's Argus Filch, ma'am."

Lily frowned in disappointment. "I can't believe it," she said, mostly to herself. "He seemed to enjoy his work so much."

"Can't speak to that, ma'am," Filch said. "Anyone who wants to work around these rotten little children is a few twigs short of a broom."

"Then why are you here?" asked Lily, rather cruelly. It seemed exhaustion had gotten the better of her at last. But she had been looking forward to seeing Mr Pringle again, and in exchange for a kindly old man Hogwarts had given her someone altogether rude and unpleasant and she had an overwhelming desire to irritate him as much as he'd irritated her.

And indeed, Filch did seem quite insulted. He glowered at her before flexing his grip on her trunk handle. "I'll be taking this to your room, then, ma'am," he grumbled, and proceeded to march past her with no small air of indignation following in his wake.

She sighed heavily before turning to follow him through the entrance hall and up three flights of stairs, one of which required Lily to jump a step lest it catch her. At least, she thought wryly as she made that graceless leap, she still had the passages of Hogwarts ingrained within her reflexes—how silly would it look for a professor to get stuck in a stairwell and require assistance?

Lily endured Filch's grumpy silence until they began marching through the third floor, when a memory struck her and she couldn't help but to ask him a question.

"Is Hagrid still here?"

"You say something, ma'am?" muttered Filch, not bothering to stop and listen.

"Hagrid," she repeated. "The gamekeeper's apprentice. Rather tall fellow, lives in the hut by the forest? Good with animals?"

"Oh, aye, he's still here," Filch said, though he sounded unhappy about it. "He's not an apprentice anymore—he's been gamekeeper proper as long as I've been here."

Lily smiled. "Oh, good," she said. "He must love it so."

"I suppose," grumbled Filch. "This'll be your office, then. Sleeping chambers are up the stairs."

He opened the door to what Lily knew as Flitwick's office, and Lily stepped inside. It had been tailored for her in Flitwick's wake. The chairs had no steps to aid the small man in sitting, and the desk was of normal proportions. Lily took notice of these things with some relief. It would feel less of an intrusion to live and work here without constant reminders that it was not her office to begin with.

Filch dropped her things by the door and slouched off with a muttered, "Ma'am," as his dismissal.

She sighed.

It was probably a poor idea of hers to make an enemy of the caretaker but there was no help for it now. Lily didn't even bother to grab her trunk as she crossed the office and climbed the short staircase to her bedroom.

After over a day of wakefulness, Lily threw herself onto the plush bed and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

It was the sun shining through her window that woke Lily. She lifted a hand to block the light on instinct.

"No," she moaned, trying desperately to return to her dreamless slumber. In response, her stomach growled loudly. Only then did Lily realise that in the height of her exhaustion she had forgotten to feed herself since last night's paltry dinner. When she sat up her head spun, and she supported it with a limp, weary hand.

"What time is it?" she wondered aloud. She glanced at the sun through her fingers and noticed the color was almost red. She had slept the day away.

Lily stood and searched her room for a clock. It was sparse and awaiting her things to decorate the bookshelves and chest of drawers, but she managed to find a small clock to place on her nightstand which informed her in a rather judgmental voice that it was half past six.

The professors and remaining students would be in the middle of dinner at the time. Lily briefly considered calling upon a house-elf to deliver some food, or just nipping down to the kitchens—but she would have to meet the residents of the castle one way or another, and she didn't want to start off with a withdrawn reputation. Besides, what would her former professors (her colleagues now, she remembered) think of her if she remained isolated in her room on her very first night?

Resigned to appear social, Lily stumbled into the adjoining bathroom and took a glance at her reflection.

"Darling, you really haven't been taking care of yourself lately, have you?" her mirror asked sympathetically.

"Shush," Lily demanded, too tired to put any force into her voice.

"No need to get snippy."

She rolled her eyes and splashed some water on her face. Upon further inspection, Lily saw she would need more than a splash of water to make herself presentable. She stepped out of the washroom and bent down beside the bed to grab her wand where she'd left it on the floor. It was no wonder Fabian kept taking her wand and putting it in a safe location when she slept over; Lily treated her most valuable weapon with an appalling lack of care whenever she fell asleep.

On returning to her still sulking mirror, Lily paused and went through spells she rarely used these days in her head, reciting them to make sure she hadn't forgotten. It wouldn't do to disfigure herself with charms if she wanted to prove herself worthy of teaching the very same subject.

After asserting that she still knew what she was doing, Lily began applying charms to her face. She added the barest amount of magical make-up; just some eyeliner and mascara, and a bit of foundation to give the illusion that she still treated herself with care. The entire process took five minutes—five minutes Lily had long stopped allotting in her morning routine.

"What do you think?" she asked her mirror.

"Less wretched," it conceded with lingering irritation.

"Good enough," Lily announced, and pointed her wand at her robes to de-wrinkle them after their rough treatment. Spots of dirt still showed up, but if she spent time on making herself entirely presentable Lily would miss the very dinner she was cleaning up for.

Lily tucked her wand in her pocket and headed through her quarters down to her office. She caught sight of her trunk by the door, untouched since her arrival that morning. For a moment her cleaning instincts began to kick in and Lily reached out to grab the handle—but no, food. She needed to eat. Putting her clothes away could wait.

She began her walk through the corridors, glancing around fondly at the paintings and statues from her childhood. Lily spotted the portrait of Anne Boleyn and drifted toward it.

Good memories were attached to that portrait. To the left of the Queen, Lily had her first kiss with her boyfriend David. He was her first boyfriend, and by and large the best of the lot. Lily smiled at the memory of his messy blond hair and gap toothed grin.

"Miss Evans?"

She turned.

"I was just coming to fetch you," said Professor McGonagall, approaching the portrait where Lily had paused. "I haven't seen you all day."

"Sorry, Professor," Lily said automatically, and then chuckled at herself. "I suppose old habits die hard."

"I should say the same," McGonagall admitted. "You don't need to call me 'professor'; Minerva will do."

Lily grimaced before she could catch herself. It wasn't so much the idea of calling her former Head of House by her given name so much as...well, it made Lily feel old.

_You don't notice how fast life has passed you by until someone comes along and reminds you of your younger self,_ her mother had said once. At the time, Mrs Evans had been comparing pictures of herself as a young woman with pictures of Petunia, but it stayed with Lily over the years. Now, it struck her as hideously true.

"Of course, if you prefer 'professor'..." said McGonagall a bit crossly.

She blushed, realising the other woman had seen her expression and had taken it poorly.

"Minerva will take some getting used to," she responded with a forced lightness in her voice. "I'm just so used to you as my professor that I didn't even think of what to call you. Or _any_ of my professors, really. Is Professor Marsh still teaching the beginner's Charms? Because I've always wondered what her first name is."

"It's Beatrice," McGonagall answered, turning to walk back down the grand staircase, "and no, she isn't here. I'm afraid we've cut back on our staff in recent years."

"What?"

Lily sped up a bit to walk in stride with her new colleague, finding McGonagall's pace to be just as swift as it was when Lily was a student.

"Parents have felt less...secure with their children away from home," explained the older woman.

"Because of the war?"

"Yes."

Lily shook her head in dismay. "I just persuaded a Muggle-born's mother to let her daughter stay in school," she told McGonagall. "I can't imagine a safer place than Hogwarts. Surely the wizarding community realises they're putting their family in greater danger this way?"

"Some of them are leaving the country," said McGonagall, "and others are in hiding."

"Still...of all the things..."

McGonagall granted Lily a small smile. "It might be hard for you to understand how much fear can cloud one's judgment."

"I know it does," said Lily, somewhat defensively. "It's just..." She changed the subject. "Am I the only Charms professor, then?"

"You are," answered McGonagall. Lily couldn't be sure, but she thought a hint of pity slipped through in the other woman's tone. "The only class with more than one professor at the moment is Herbology. I can't remember if you were here for Professor Sprout, but she and Professor Hollenbrook share classes."

Lily nodded. "She started my seventh year so I never took lessons from her, but I remember her."

They reached the large doors of the Great Hall, one of which was propped open.

"You'll likely remember the other professors as well," said McGonagall. "Except for Professor Meadowes, that is."

She was about to ask which subject Professor Meadowes taught, but McGonagall stepped forward and leaned close to Lily rather unexpectedly.

"Tomorrow, there's a meeting," she said in a low voice. Even with the closeness, Lily had to strain to hear what she was saying. "It starts at four. I'll be in front of your office at three to take you there. If anyone asks, we're going out for a drink to discuss your curriculum."

McGonagall straightened herself out and took a step back. "The students are rather curious about you. Don't be too intimidated," she advised before stepping inside the Great Hall. Lily took a moment to process what her old teacher had whispered before joining her, where she was met with something of an audience.

About twenty students and ten professors sat at a single long table in the middle of the Hall. Lily saw the other House tables had been pushed up against the wall, though the teachers' table on the dais remained unmoved. Lily spotted Professors Hollenbrook and Sprout immediately, but most of her attention was taken up by one individual in particular.

"Lily Evans, I don't believe it," said Professor Slughorn, standing with some effort. His jovial grin spread to every part of his face and the old Potions Master seemed to radiate with glee. "You've turned into a damn fine witch, I've heard. I always knew it."

She smiled at Slughorn. Lily had always liked Horace Slughorn just about as much as he made her uncomfortable—among other reasons, he was the sort of pureblood with prejudice against Muggle-borns without exactly realising his prejudice. She couldn't bring herself to fault him for his good intentions, but she didn't have to like it, either. Nevertheless, he was a fantastic and supportive professor during her years at Hogwarts, and it had been his strong recommendation that got her a job at the Ministry.

"Professor," she said warmly. "How have you been? Castle life seems to be treating you well, as always."

Lily spotted McGonagall slipping into a stiff, high-backed chair at the head of the table. Briefly, Lily wondered where Dumbledore was.

"Hmph, yes, can't complain, can't complain." Slughorn threw out his large belly with an impressive grin. "Dumbledore's taking good care of us, isn't he?" A few students nodded under Slughorn's directive gaze.

"I assume your Club is still in full swing, then," said Lily. Strange though it might be to her, the students continued to vie for Slughorn's acknowledgment—the smarter ones thinking of what their futures might hold and the silly ones desperately hoping to increase their popularity.

Perhaps the grass _was_ greener on the other side, because Lily had been an invitee of the "Slug Club" for most of her Hogwarts years and had not found it to be the hallowed place of intelligence and refinery the uninvited students often touted it to be. She hadn't exactly _dreaded_ attending but her enthusiasm had never been particularly high.

"Oho, we've got some bright students in our little group," Slughorn informed her, lowering himself back into his seat. "They've got skill, I'll admit; haven't yet found a student nearly as talented as you or that Severus Snape when it comes to the art of Potion making, though. I suppose that talent was distributed equally in the war."

Lily's smile froze into place. "I suppose..." She couldn't think of a single thing to say, not for the life of her. Slughorn could be so utterly _tactless_...

"Miss Evans!" exclaimed Professor Sprout, obviously sensing a rescue was in order. "Do come sit by me and Professor Meadowes, won't you?"

"Of course," Lily said, relieved.

"Forgive me, it's Professor Evans now, isn't is? Goodness, how strange to think..."

"Miss Evans is fine until tomorrow." She made her way past a couple of students and sat to the sunny woman's right. On Professor Sprout's left was apparently the aforementioned Professor Meadowes. Lily examined him quickly.

Though he was sitting down, Professor Meadowes appeared to be much taller than his dinner companion, and at least a decade younger. Lily estimated him at about three or four years older than herself at the most, though for the life of her she could not recall anyone by the name of Meadowes during her years at Hogwarts. He had dark skin and short, wavy hair, and held himself with confidence only bestowed to the charming, good-looking people who know this about themselves.

Professor Meadowes seemed to catch her quick summary of him, and gave her an amused grin.

"Try the pudding," suggested Professor McGonagall from the end of the table. "It has become a favorite of mine over the holidays. Students, this is Professor Lily Evans, who has graciously agreed to fill in for Professor Flitwick."

"You'll meet me formally on Tuesday," Lily promised the lot of them. She helped herself to the pudding McGonagall had recommended.

"Where did you work before, Professor?" one of the students asked right away.

She looked at the boy, who couldn't have been more than fifteen, somewhat surprised by the question. When she was a student, Lily hadn't given much thought to where her professors had been employed before. They were educators and that was all.

"I work at the Ministry," she said. "Technically, I'm still employed. I guess this is _my _sabbatical."

"And what did you do there?"

Lily leaned forward. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

"I didn't give it to you, ma'am," said the boy.

"Yes, I know," Lily told him, "but let's pretend in the interest of politeness that you offered it already."

She saw the ghost of a smile on McGonagall's face as the boy flushed a dull red.

"Egan MacMillan, professor," he told her, remarkably well-spoken considering his embarrassment.

"Your aunt wouldn't happen to be Megan MacMillan, by any chance?" Lily took a bite of the pudding and nearly sighed with relief.

"...She is," MacMillan answered guardedly.

Lily swallowed. "We're on the same Squad."

MacMillan's face lit up. "You work with Aunt Meggie?" He launched into a steady stream of praise about his hit-wizard of an aunt, recounting several stories Lily had witnessed firsthand. She welcomed the chatter, relieved for once to be the listener instead of the teller.

Thankfully, the events of the night before hadn't yet become an "Aunt Meggie" story—it was entirely too soon for Lily to relive the Inferi.

The mood of the small table, initially stilted and awkward upon Lily's arrival, began to relax through MacMillan's talk of Lily's Squad member. Conversation sprung up around the First Muggle Squad's missions and grew into their own topics, most of them concerning the war. Lily didn't participate much; she spent her time sating her hunger.

Still, it struck a chord with her—while Lily was in school, the most talk about the world outside Hogwarts had to do with Quidditch and the Beatles, a phenomenon that Muggle-borns brought with them into the school. Death and danger weren't casual dinner discussions.

The meal ended when McGonagall stood, excusing herself and pleading last-minute class preparations. Slughorn left the Great Hall not long after.

"Do come see me later," he said to Lily as he left. "We have some catching up to do."

"Sometime this week," she promised.

After Slughorn had been gone for a few minutes (long enough for Lily to be sure he hadn't waited around for her), Lily excused herself as well. She planned to stop by the Hospital Wing to pick up a Sleeping Draught but as Lily began climbing the steps toward the first floor, she heard someone calling after her.

"Professor Evans?"

Lily turned and saw Meadowes standing outside the doors. "Sorry?"

He smiled easily. "I was just wondering if I could walk you back to your office. Possibly even have a conversation, if you like that sort of thing."

"I—er..."

On the one hand, she desperately needed to correct her sleeping patterns (which, experience had taught her, simply would not go back to normal without help) before the term started. On the other, Meadowes was offering his friendship, and in a staff that comprised mainly of her former professors, Lily was unlikely to make much in the way of friends.

"Why not," she said at last. She could always get a Sleeping Draught later, Lily reasoned. "So long as it's not out of your way."

"Oh, entirely," he said, striding to meet her. "I only offer to walk people to their offices when it's in the wrong direction for me. Makes life more interesting."

Lily gave him a hesitant smile as they set off. It seemed her entire Hogwarts experience so far comprised of being escorted around the castle by a variety of personalities. At least Meadowes seemed less irritable than Filch, and certainly less intimidating than McGonagall.

"So you're Lily Evans," said Meadowes casually. "Pleasure to meet you. Uriah Meadowes." He stuck out a hand mid-stride and Lily shook it.

"Have you taught here long?" she asked. His name didn't sound familiar at all...

"Since the start of last term," he said. "You've done me a great service you know. Since your arrival I'm no longer the newest professor here. It was a rather lonely position."

She frowned, utterly frustrated at her inability to place his face. "Sorry," she said abruptly, "but I'm excellent with names and faces usually, but you aren't familiar to me at all. Did you attend Hogwarts before I did?"

Meadowes laughed. "Do I look that old to you?" he asked, mercifully unruffled. "No, I actually never went to Hogwarts. I got a letter and everything, but my parents had me attend their alma mater. Yamuna Preparatory Academy in New Delhi—have you heard of it?"

Lily shook her head. She wasn't very familiar with the foreign schools.

"That's alright, most Europeans haven't," he reassured her. "Right or left up here?" She gestured to the right.

"How did you end up here at Hogwarts?" Lily wondered.

"Dumbledore offered me a job teaching Defensive Magics—Defence Against the Dark Arts, you call it here," Meadowes explained. "I hadn't been in England for...oh, ten years? Thought it would a great opportunity, and I get to see what I missed out on when my parents sent me to Yamuna instead."

"And would you say you've missed out on a lot?"

He snorted. "Yamuna doesn't have staircases that try to swallow you whole, nor a tree that would sooner take your eye out than give you shade. In fact," he mused as they hopped a trick step together, "Yamuna doesn't even have stairs. I think I'll manage to get over the loss of those childhood treasures."

Lily chuckled, beginning to feel at ease with Uriah Meadowes. "Yes, the staircases are rather rude like that. I'm not sure what you mean about the tree, though."

"The Whomping Willow?" Meadowes raised his eyebrows at her puzzled expression. "Was it not at the school when you were here?"

She shook her head, recalling the willow she'd spotted on the grounds that morning. "No, it must be new. Or at least, planted sometime after I left."

"Well isn't that just wonderful," he joked. "Apparently the Forbidden Forest didn't offer enough in the way of dangerous plant life."

She grinned. "Obviously not. That's what the greenhouses are for."

They approached Lily's office door. She saw a statue of a dragon to the left of her door, something Lily had missed before in the midst of her exhaustion and hunger. The statue was the familiar herald of Flitwick's office.

"Here's my stop," she announced. "Thanks for the conversation."

"Of course," Meadowes said with a wink. His expression grew a bit more serious for a moment. "Listen, I know how it feels to be brand-new at this job. Teaching is hard work, especially if you've never done it before. The rest of these professors, they've been at their jobs for forever, but I still remember what it's like to stand in front of that class for the first time and try to give them information. You can always come talk to me if it seems too hard or the students are awful to you. I'll listen."

"Thank you," Lily said, startled.

He flashed her a grin. "You're welcome. My office is one floor up; don't hesitate to visit. Really, I'm friendless, so you won't be competing with anyone for my time."

Lily laughed out loud as Meadowes walked off, waving as he went before sliding his hands into his pockets.

She could grow to like him, Lily thought as she reentered her office. Uriah Meadowes seemed easy enough to like.

* * *

McGonagall knocked on the door of a small, cosy cottage on the edge of Hogsmeade. Lily stood behind her, glancing about the quiet, snow-filled street to see if anyone was watching. She couldn't see anyone, but years of experience had taught Lily that just because she couldn't see something didn't mean it wasn't there.

No response came from inside the cottage. McGonagall cleared her throat and knocked again.

For her part, Lily was sincerely hoping they had the right house. The walk down from Hogwarts had been especially cold and, though Lily hadn't been burdened with poor attire and a large trunk this time, she did not enjoy the view half so much as she'd anticipated. Adding to the discomfort, McGonagall seemed to be as confused as she as to how they should interact now they were colleagues, and had adopted a somewhat stiff demeanor in Lily's presence.

The door opened inward, revealing a short, stout woman with an anxious face. Nevertheless, the woman smiled at McGonagall.

"Minerva, so nice to see you!" said the woman. She peered out at Lily. "I wasn't aware you were bringing a guest for tea."

"Yes, she was invited beforehand."

The woman pursed her lips but stepped back, allowing McGonagall entrance. "Come on in, then," she offered, glancing up and down the street warily. "The china is set, but the tea isn't hot yet."

"Thank you, Carmilla," said McGonagall, moving inside.

When McGonagall didn't wait on the threshold, Lily hurried up the front steps and passed the woman with a polite smile—or at least, as polite as Lily could manage with her nervousness. She walked quickly to where McGonagall stood, taking off her heavy overcoat.

"This is the place?" Lily whispered skeptically.

"It is," McGonagall confirmed, hanging her overcoat on a rack that hosted about ten coats already. She began to unwind her scarf. "This is the home of Mrs Carmilla Hoffen, who has graciously offered her services to the Order. You'll want to take that off," she added, gesturing to Lily's heavy cloak.

Lily began to shrug it off. "Is she a member? Of the Order, I mean?"

"She is not, but you'll find that there are some who prefer to aid the Order rather than join it," she said.

"The talk about the tea...is that some sort of code?"

McGonagall nodded as she hung her hat neatly atop her overcoat and scarf. "I daresay you'll come to understand it soon enough, if you pay attention."

Lily wondered if this was some sort of hazing ritual, or a test she needed to pass to become a true member of the Order. She kept silent, though, following McGonagall through the foyer and into a nicely-sized sitting room that the small exterior of the cottage had kept secret.

Ahead of them was a full-length, impossibly large portrait of a sparse room, the only noticeable furniture being a round table in the centre with chairs all around it. McGonagall walked straight up to the portrait while pulling her wand out of her pocket. She tapped it twice with her wand, muttering "Fizzing Whizbees" with a slight note of embarrassment, and then stepped right through the portrait.

"Bloody hell," Lily grumbled after realising she would have to follow. Of course a magical secret meeting would involve stepping into a portrait, and with a round table no less. _Of course it would_. Putting aside her misgivings (she'd never liked such things, not even for Platform 9 ¾ as a student), Lily reached for her wand inside her right pocket. She tapped the portrait, echoing McGonagall's apparent password and, gripping her wand tightly, stepped through.

Everything was dark for a moment, and then her vision cleared and Lily could see McGonagall standing just in front of her. She glanced around.

The room she had arrived in had a round table similar to the one in the portrait, but unlike the stark painting, people stood in corners talking in low whispers. One couple sat at the table speaking earnestly to one another. Lily did not recognise either person at the table, but she saw a familiar face almost immediately.

Alastor Moody moved toward her with purpose and a grim expression that gave Lily pause.

"Evans," he said gruffly, looking her up and down.

"Sir," Lily replied with some awkwardness.

McGonagall moved between them. "Alastor, I thought Albus left before me," she said. "What is the delay?"

The Auror sniffed. "He had a mission to look after," he answered. "I'll be running the meeting if he's gone too long. Now move aside, Minerva, and let me look at her."

Sighing loudly, McGonagall stepped to the left.

Lily tried very hard to look like the soldier she imagined Alastor Moody would want in the Order of the Phoenix. Her back was straight and stiff and her eyes never left his stern face. Moody stomped around her in a tight loop, examining her closely.

"Alastor," McGonagall protested irritably.

"She's a very loyal Ministry supporter, Minerva," Moody said, his voice low and full of warning. "I've seen her with the First Floor; this one here gets along well with them."

Lily was about to open her mouth and explain that getting on with the First Floor had everything to do with her former boyfriend working there and nothing to do with policy when someone rescued her from Moody's harsh scrutiny.

"Obviously that means she's a spy," a low, teasing voice called over to Moody. She glanced over and saw a stout man with a friendly face. He had a cane in his left hand and leaned upon it heavily—Lily couldn't see his legs beneath his robes but the man's body curved unnaturally to his left and she suspected he had a bad leg.

A wave of relief rushed over her and Lily let her shoulders relax.

"Still not convinced _you're _not a spy," Moody answered, though he didn't sound entirely serious.

The man limped over. "Ah, yes. I've only known you a lifetime, after all—that's hardly enough time to determine my loyalties." To Lily, he added, "Edgar Bones, Undersecretary for Public Affairs." His right hand extended.

Lily took it. "Lily Evans, First Muggle Squad," she replied, and then caught herself. "Also the substitute Charms professor. I've heard only good things about you, sir."

In truth, Edgar Bones was one of the most respected names at the Ministry, included on the prestigious roster of famous Aurors like the very same Alastor Moody who stood before Lily; Gloria Shacklebolt, Bartemius Crouch, and the Minister for Magic himself. Lily had never met the man in person until today despite Tim's promises to introduce them.

"Don't let this one scare you," said Edgar Bones, jerking his head in Moody's direction. "He should know better than to torment the new members for his own amusement, but he does it anyway."

"Hmph," Moody grunted, stomping toward a group off in a shadowy corner.

"For Merlin's sake," McGonagall huffed in Moody's wake. "Absolutely no manners. None at all."

"Damn fine Auror, though." Bones said as he watched Moody leave. He glanced back at Lily. "First Muggle Squad, eh? I remember when we formed those. Three years ago, wasn't it? You've been on the Squad long?"

"Yes," Lily answered. She began to breathe normally for the first time since McGonagall had knocked on the door to her office an hour ago. "I applied for First Squad as soon as they formed. I worked in Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes before, in Muggle Liaisons. I had to go through Hit Wizard training first but it was worth it."

Bones nodded. "The Muggle Squads do good work," he told her. "It's no wonder Delaney recommended you to the Order."

Lily's heart stopped.

"What?"

"Dorcas Delaney," he repeated with a smile. "She put your name forward and Dumbledore decided to induct you."

"Delaney," Lily echoed faintly. "Cassie Delaney?"

Bones raised his right hand. "She's right there," he said, pointing.

Lily's gaze traveled to a black-haired witch on the other side of the room. The witch stood next to a boudoir with her back to Lily, but Lily had known that stance (and that hair) better than her own since she was fifteen. A simple matter of poor lighting and a turned back could not keep her from knowing the witch's identity.

"Excuse me," Lily muttered to McGonagall and Bones, skirting the round table and honing in on her friend. She grabbed Cassie's shoulder and swung her around violently, putting a hand in front of her face in case Cassie decided to take a swing at her.

Cassie's eyes widened. "Wha—Lily?"

"It is you," breathed Lily. She felt her stomach roll. "Merlin's pants."

"Lily," Cassie began, her tone horribly sympathetic.

"Please don't," she said quietly. "Don't..."

As abruptly as she'd come up to her friend, Lily turned around and headed toward a table with water pitchers and glasses. She poured herself a full glass of water and drank the whole thing in one go, gulping down large swallows that made her throat hurt a little.

The ache in her throat distracted from the more sizeable, unpleasant aching in her chest that came not from physical discomfort but from the pain of betrayal and loneliness. If there was anything Lily hated more than the prejudice she faced for being a Muggle-born, it was being shut out by someone she thought of as her closest friend. And the one thing Lily had never thought to fear from the fiercely loyal Cassie Delaney was being shut out.

Lily kept her eyes fixed firmly on the wall behind the table of water, unwilling to look away. If she did, tears might start falling and in the past month Lily had had quite enough of tears. They weren't useful for anything other than making her face puffy and red.

The conversation in the room dissipated after several minutes, turning into expectant silence. Lily turned and saw Dumbledore standing beside McGonagall at the portrait entrance.

One by one, the people in the room took seats at the round table. Lily spotted Cassie moving toward her and quickly made her way over to Edgar Bones, sitting between him and a witch she didn't recognise. She studiously avoided Cassie and saw a few seconds later out of the corner of her eye that her friend had taken a seat next to—

She turned her head toward Cassie in disbelief.

Both Prewett twins were at the table. Fabian was between Cassie and Gideon, all three of whom were motioning for her to join them.

Lily looked back at Dumbledore, biting her lip. _Don't act like a child_, she scolded herself. _This is hardly the time to start bawling_.

It hurt, though. She felt like an immense, cruel prank had been played on her and just revealed to everyone. She was so _stupid_, or perhaps her friends didn't trust her—there had to be a reason Lily hadn't realised that almost everyone important to her was in a secret society. Was Margot here too? Dagley?

Usually she was so good at figuring things out. That's what made Lily so good at Potion-making and Charms-inventing; she had a mind for solving puzzles and mysteries until everything fell into place. Or at least, she'd thought she had a mind for it.

"I call this meeting to order," Dumbledore announced, settling into his own seat. On his right sat McGonagall, and to his left was Moody. "It is the first meeting of the new year, but we are absent many members."

"The Lorens are in Italy," said the witch to Lily's left. She was tall with light brown skin and dark hair that fell to her waist, and her eyes were sharp. "And Allan had a...an unavoidable engagement with his family today."

Another witch across the table from Lily snorted. "Right, his mum's still trying to make a husband out of him."

There were several hearty chuckles around the table and most of the members smiled. Lily watched them, wondering who Allen was and what the Lorens (whoever they might be) could possibly be doing in Italy for Dumbledore—if they were in Italy for him at all, that was, and not simply visiting.

She felt terribly lost.

"I fear Helen Dale has bitten off a bit more than she can chew," Dumbledore agreed with the witch. "However, today we have a new member to induct. Miss Lily Evans, a recent addition to our teaching roster at Hogwarts, and a respected member of First Muggle Squad in the Department of Law Enforcement. Lily has also invented her own _immensely_ powerful Charm within the last year and has won an award for it."

Lily turned a bit red when all eyes turned toward her. She raised her hand a little and waved softly at the stares she was receiving, some of them inviting, some interested, and some of them suspicious. Moody's gaze stuck out as the most suspicious of them all, but Lily refused to let the man's fierce glare bother her.

"Lily," said Dumbledore, and she turned her eyes toward his. Usually Dumbledore's eyes held a slight twinkle, but all she could see now was a deep solemnity. "There are no Unbreakable Vows we take here in the Order of the Phoenix. We have no spells to prevent our members from speaking about what happens in these meetings, only their word. It is a choice we make to protect each other and our cause with our lives."

She managed to keep herself from squirming in her seat. Whatever Dumbledore wanted her to say, she couldn't think of it. Was there some pre-written response she was to follow?

In the end she said quietly, "I understand."

"Do you swear to put the Order above all other affiliations?" Dumbledore continued.

Lily hesitated for a moment before replying, "I swear it." The words felt heavy in her mouth and, when she had said them, Lily felt as though she had just crossed a threshold that could never be uncrossed. She was in the thick of it now, and there was no going back from it.

"Hmph," Moody grunted once again.

"Alastor," muttered Dumbledore, and Lily wasn't sure but she could almost see the corners of his mouth turned up. In a louder voice he addressed the entire table. "Lily Evans is one of us now. She has been vouched for by Cassie Delaney, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, and Minerva McGonagall. Are there any naysayers?"

She turned her head to stare at McGonagall, who appeared entirely unaffected by Dumbledore's naming. Yet a warmth toward her former Head of House welled up in Lily, gratitude and flattery that the stately woman held a high enough opinion of her to induct her into the Order.

Surprisingly, Moody said nothing against her.

"Very well," the Headmaster concluded. "We are in agreement. Now that we have all met Lily Evans, it would perhaps behoove her to learn her fellow members' names and what they contribute to the Order."

"I'll start," said the witch on Lily's left. Lily shifted in her seat to face the woman better. "I'm Isabella Arram. I work in the Apothecary in Diagon Alley and provide the Order with needed potions, tinctures, and the occasional on-the-spot healing. I am also tasked with reporting any suspected Followers' purchases from the Apothecary."

"Hi," Lily replied, a bit weakly.

Isabella Arram flashed her a reassuring smile.

"Dedalus Diggle," said the man to Isabella's left. "I'm mostly here for the food." The table laughed loudly at that, and even Lily found herself smiling a little. "Nah, I'm a fairly decent fighter. I also work as an assistant manager for the Wigtown Wanderers, but don't laugh—Quidditch pitches are a great place to pick up chatter."

The wizard on Diggle's left introduced himself as Mundungus Fletcher in a rough Cockney accent, telling Lily everyone called him "Dung" for short, though Lily wasn't entirely sure that was the only reason. Dung was scruffy and shabby, and was a self-professed crook who served in the Order as a genuine insider to the criminal elements.

Next was a somewhat familiar face.

"Laura Grahame," said the blonde, smiling witch. "You might recognise me, I'm one of the Minister's aides. It's my job to look out for him on behalf of both the Ministry and the Order."

"We've met," Lily said, surprising herself with the memory. "I went to a Gala with Tim—Timothy Alder, the Junior Undersecretary, and we met."

After Laura was Caradoc Dearborn, a kindly-faced gentleman in his mid-thirties who worked in Gringotts alongside the goblins. Moody, Dumbledore, and McGonagall were next and only said their names before moving on.

The witch who'd spoken earlier about Allan Dale's mother went next. "Isla McKinnon, of the ever-illustrious McKinnon clan," she introduced herself. "I don't actually contribute much besides a connection to high society, meaning I can be in any place I want if I bat my eyelashes enough. Since a good part of my family joined up with the Order, I suppose I thought of it as the thing to do. And here I am."

Lily wasn't sure if she was charmed by Isla McKinnon or not—joining the Order because it was "the thing to do" seemed an off-putting reason.

Sturgis Podmore revealed very little about himself other than his name and his ability to "do some things" for the Order. He seemed like a capable young man, despite his lackluster introduction.

"Gideon Prewett," said Gideon with an earnest expression. "One of your best friends, Auror, and Evans, you've got to stop scowling at me like—"

"Lily, you know that if I could have told you about the Order, I would have," Cassie interrupted, eliciting an "oy!" from the passed over Fabian. "Believe me, I wanted to tell you so badly, and I suggested you because I knew this was the sort of thing you'd be up for. If I'd thought you'd be upset I might have—"

"Introductions _only_, Delaney," Moody said loudly. "If she already knows you, then move along."

Cassie fell silent, her hands curling into fists as she gnawed on her lower lip.

"Er...Humbert McKinnon," said the wizard to Cassie's left. "McKinnon clan. I work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry, and I'm Cailean's brother. For what that's worth."

"Marlene McKinnon," the witch beside him said.

Lily felt her heart leap. _The_ Marlene McKinnon? She leaned forward and saw a stately woman in her late thirties. Her light brown hair was up in a no-nonsense bun, and her hazel eyes were fixed directly on Lily, who felt she was close to fainting. Certainly her face was red.

"I'm also of the McKinnon clan," Marlene continued, apparently unfazed by Lily's reaction. "I am the co-founder and current president of the Alliance of Magic-Born Beings, for which I host an address weekly on the WWN. My purpose in the Order is to provide financial backing, as well as added manpower with my organisation should the need arise."

"Hello," Lily breathed.

She wanted to say something profound, something about how deeply Marlene McKinnon's work had affected her life and her purpose, such as her addresses concerning Muggle-borns. Lily wanted to say that, thanks to Marlene, she felt she had support in the wizarding world instead of standing alone. All she could manage was a stupid smile in front of her idol.

Edgar Bones saved her from total embarrassment.

"You've already met me," he said cheerfully. "Feel free to call me Ed, or Eddie. I'm not one for formalities outside of work."

Lily flashed him a grateful look.

"Not everyone is here today," McGonagall informed Lily. "Filius is in Peru, as you know, but we have several other members abroad or...unavailable. You'll meet them in the coming meetings."

"Right, that's that taken care of," grumbled Moody. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

"The Inferi attack on New Year's Eve," Fabian said immediately.

"Knew we were going to start with that one," grunted ...was it Podmore? Sturgis Podmore. He relaxed in his chair and crossed his arms. "Load of poppycock. Can't have more than one Inferius in the same place without them tearing each other apart."

"That load of poppycock nearly killed Lily's partner," Gideon pointed out. "Would you like to tell her it's all made up?"

All eyes turned to her, and she squirmed in her seat. "Yeah, er...he's still in the hospital. Nearly lost his leg."

"It's definitely not poppycock," Moody chimed in. He leaned forward and swept his harsh gaze around the table, lingering on an abashed Sturgis. "I got my report directly from Gloria Shacklebolt—you calling her a liar, boy? Not to mention _three_ people sitting here witnessed multiple Inferi with their own eyes. Let's not waste time arguing what is and what isn't, and focus on _how_ and _why_."

"Well said, Alastor," Dumbledore agreed. "To that end, Isabella, do you have what I asked you for?"

Isabella reached between her and Lily into a bag and pulled out a stack of parchment that had clearly been compiled at the last minute—sheets of paper were sticking out and some corners were bent over. A small splash of ink decorated the middle of the top sheet and Isabella brushed at it half-heartedly before laying everything out on the table.

She flipped through several sheets before extracting one and cleared her throat. "There are records of multiple Inferi created at the same time, mostly in Haiti or the state of Louisiana in America. Also recorded is the use of an extra ingredient grown only in those regions, which stabilises the connection between summoner and Inferius so that the natural instincts of the creature are overwritten to better serve."

"Aren't those just zombies?" Diggle interjected.

"What's the difference?" said Isla.

"Zombies come from a spell," Isabella read off from another sheet of parchment. "The spell lacks any control over the reanimated corpse. An Inferius can be controlled. The word for Inferius in Creole is _zonbi_, so the confusion probably stems from that."

"Well, of course the Americans wouldn't have control over their reanimated corpses, let alone the Haitians," snorted Dung.

Isabella pierced him with a cold stare. "If you were listening, _Dung_, you'd have heard me say those regions I mentioned are more advanced at making multiple Inferi, not less advanced."

"Oho, _pardon me_," he returned with a sneer.

The apothecary merely shot him a look of disdain before continuing. "I've examined many sources that might account for multiple Inferi—Egyptian afterlife guards, Chinese _Jiangshi_, Tibetan _ro-lang_—but the only advancement in creating more than a single Inferius come from Haiti or Louisiana. In terms of potions, the methodology has long since evolved from what we're able to do in Europe."

Humbert McKinnon leaned forward. "There's a problem with that," he said. "Both the places you mentioned are heavy violaters of the International Statue of Secrecy, and are therefore banned by the majority of the magical world from international trade. Getting that extra ingredient here from Louisiana or Haiti is highly illegal."

"Yeah, that'll stop You-Know-Who and his Followers," Isla pointed out dryly. "Illegal? That's where the buck stops, after all."

"What I'm _saying_ is that'll be extremely difficult," Humbert went on, shaking his head at Isla. Lily wondered how closely the two were related. Was she his niece? Cousin? "That ingredient you mentioned, Isabella, what is it?"

She flipped to the top sheet of parchment. "It's a plant...crushed up and boiled, it becomes a sort of paste...has to be prepared separately from the potion itself...I don't have a name here but give me a week and I could pull it from some contacts. Obviously, it's regarded as a secret."

"Something like that'll be black market, then," said Humbert. He looked to Dumbledore. "Black market items from a country banned from trade? I'm not saying it's impossible, but the only way to get something like that is with a lot of clout and _a lot_ of money."

"The Malfoys have money," Cassie suggested. "So do the Blacks and the Notts."

"The Selwynns, too," added Isla. "The Followers don't lack deep pockets."

Several other members began chiming in with names and examples of rich, suspected Followers. Lily listened in fascination. Some of these names she knew, having worked in the D.M.L.E. long enough to follow those under suspicion. Others, like the Selwynns, she hadn't known about. How many names did the Order have and keep to themselves?

"Ah, but you're forgetting something," Caradoc Dearborn murmured after a minute of this. The members quieted. "The vaults."

Lily blinked. Vaults?

"Which ones are moving, Doc?" Moody asked him.

"I haven't seen any movement from those vaults in the last month," Caradoc went on, and Lily remembered—he'd introduced himself as an employee of Gringotts. "At least, not enough movement to secure something expensive. Even cumulative withdrawals couldn't add up."

"What about a pool?" Isabella said. "Couldn't the collective withdrawals across several names add up to the sufficient amount?"

"It's possible," he acknowledged, "but not likely. Usually the money I put a Tracer on goes to dress robes or something of that nature."

"There's only been one Inferi attack so far," said Moody, leaning back in his chair. "We don't have enough information at the moment. Keep constant vigilance on those vaults. If there's another Inferi attack we can trace back patterns in certain vaults, but until then we're just pointing blindly and hoping we're right."

"I think that's enough about Inferi," remarked McGonagall.

Dumbledore nodded. "Dedalus, what can you give me?"

The meeting went on in this fashion—names and missions that Lily had never heard of before, and a few she was surprised to hear, and everyone nodded along in perfect clarity. Conversations lobbied back and forth across the table with fluidity.

The thing fascinating her was the informality of it all. Fabian spoke to Moody as an equal instead of his superior, and the same with Laura Grahame to Eddie Bones. Not a single person held any power, except for perhaps Dumbledore who largely left the talking to the other members. The significance of the round table stood out more and more throughout the meeting.

Lily stayed silent. She wanted to soak in everything these people were saying, the conversations they were having. There were no explanations given to her; she had to infer everything for herself. It was a lonely introduction into a world she didn't quite understand.

* * *

An hour passed before Dumbledore stood and announced the end of business, by which point Lily's head was spinning and her arse sore from sitting upright. She slumped forward a little as the other members began to stand up and the sounds of chatter filled the room.

"It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"

She turned her head. Isabella stayed seated next to her, a sympathetic grin on her face.

"Mm-hmm," Lily answered with a nod of her head. "I don't know how I'm going to keep it all in my head—you know, between this and the Muggle Squad and teaching...sorry, this isn't anything you need to hear."

"I understand, though," Isabella assured her. "I run my own business as an apothecary in addition to missions for the Order. It's a lot to handle and it doesn't ever slow down, not really. But you'll manage it. You wouldn't have been put forward if you couldn't."

Lily smiled wanly. "It's nice to meet you. Isabella, right?"

"Right," she agreed. "You'll memorise all our names eventually."

"Thanks," said Lily. In her mind, she ran down the list of names she'd been given earlier and found she could place every face in the room—but she didn't say so to Isabella. It would feel self-indulgent.

"I'm available if you need to talk," Isabella told her, before grabbing her bag and standing up. She walked away from Lily with a confident, womanly sway to her hips and headed toward McGonagall.

Lily sighed.

Despite Isabella's assurances, she couldn't relax. Three weeks ago her life was simple, or at least as simple as it could be in the middle of a war. She had a job she knew how to do, that she was _good_ at, had a boyfriend she'd been with for two years, had security in whom she trusted. Now?

Now she was sitting in a secret room in a cottage in Hogsmeade, meeting with an underground organisation, almost about to start teaching students. And all on her own, too, being the _only_ Charms teacher instead of one of two, like she'd anticipated. Lily wasn't sure she could handle all of it, since she was barely keeping her head above water as it was.

Perhaps she shouldn't have agreed to everything at once. Perhaps she should've definitively left the Ministry for the year to focus on Hogwarts, or not have joined the Order, or...

"Lily?"

She turned.

Cassie hovered over her, eyes wide with concern.

"What?" Lily muttered.

"Can we talk?"

Well, that was to be expected. If Lily really wanted to avoid her friend she should've just left right after the meeting.

"Alright," she said warily.

Immediately, Cassie slid into Eddie Bones' vacated chair. "You have to understand, I've been sworn to secrecy," she started off immediately. "Of course I wanted to tell you, Lily, you're my best friend! But if we don't keep the Order a secret then all the work we do here goes to waste."

"I don't know why you're telling me this," Lily said, "but—"

"Because I don't want you to hate me!" exclaimed Cassie. "We've always trusted each other and you've always been there for me. I've been trying to get you in the Order for ages now so I wouldn't have to keep this a secret from you. That, and of course you're perfect for it. But believe me, it killed me to lie to you."

"Cas," she said quietly, effectively silencing her friend, "I know all this."

"You...you do?"

"A secret society has to stay secret, I know that," Lily went on. A lump built up in the back of her throat. "I'm not stupid."

Embarrassingly, her voice broke on the last word. Cassie awkwardly leaned in for a hug, but Lily shifted away.

"I'll explain everything to you," Cassie promised. "What the Order's been up to, all the ongoing missions—you're in on it now, so you can ask anything you like and I'll tell you all about it. So will Fab and Gideon—"

She let out a wet-sounding chuckle. "Right. They've been lying to me, too."

Cassie flinched.

"Not now, yeah?" Lily said, turning away. "I've got to post a letter and get back to the castle. I haven't even started preparing lessons—"

"Lily—"

"Look, come by in a couple weeks," she said over Cassie as she rose from her seat. "We'll talk then."

"Lils, wait up—"

Lily didn't wait for Cassie. Instead she crossed the room to where McGonagall, Isabella, and Eddie Bones stood in a closed-off huddle and waited to catch the eye of her new colleague.

McGonagall noticed her rather quickly, considering the intensity of her whispered conversation. "Miss Evans?"

"Should I wait for you?" Lily asked. It didn't escape her notice that McGonagall had slipped with her name again.

"No, that's not necessary," she said. "We were just finishing up. Come, I'll walk back with you to the castle."

Lily followed her to the apparently seamless wall through which they had entered the room. McGonagall stepped forward and disappeared through the stone, and Lily closed her eyes before doing the same. It didn't matter how many times she'd walked through an invisible barrier, she was always slightly afraid of getting caught within the wall. Only when she emerged into Mrs Hoffen's sitting room and away from Cassie's gaze did she exhale freely, nearly sagging in her relief.

McGonagall was already donning her scarf and hat. "Is there anything you need while we're in town?" she asked Lily.

"I have to send a letter," she said. "Muggle post. It'll only take a moment, if you don't mind."

"Mm."

After they had both bundled up again in anticipation of the cold, Lily trailed after McGonagall to the front door. She did not see Mrs Hoffen on their way out, but behind her Lily heard someone else emerge from the portrait in the sitting room—a few someones, judging by the chatter.

Snow fell in soft flakes as they stepped out onto Oak Street, billowing about in little whirls in the wind, and crunching and squeaking beneath their feet. Lily could feel her cheeks and nose turning red in the cold and covered her face with one mittened hand.

"I was surprised, back in your fourth year," said McGonagall abruptly, "when you befriended Cassie Delaney. Your friendship with Sarah-Jane Mosley seemed a bit more like you, but then again, you were on good terms with Severus Snape for a while as well."

Lily glanced over in confusion. "Professor?"

"She was always prickly—I wasn't her Head of House, but I noticed her," McGonagall went on. "I called her in a few times to scold her attitude. I was happy to see you two become close. You did as much good for her as she did you, and I was glad to find out the pair of you were still friends when Cassie joined the Order."

"And when was that?" Lily muttered. A tinge of resentment snuck through her voice and echoed in her words.

"You should ask her that."

She bowed her head as they turned down High Street. Up ahead was the Post Office and Lily picked up her pace a bit to reach it.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked McGonagall, who merely shook her head and stationed herself outside the door with a wrinkled nose.

Lily couldn't blame her. The inside of the Post Office smelled of an unholy combination of owl droppings and dead rodents, especially pungent in the warmth. The transition from cold fresh air to stuffy heat would've been unpleasant enough without the stench. Holding her breath, she set about sending off her letter as soon as possible.

The letter in question was the one she'd promised poor Phillip, the security guard of her flat building, to her landlord Mr Valtire. Inside was a hasty explanation she'd hammered out that morning about taking up a last minute teaching post at a "private academy in Scotland" and the temporary resident in her flat—Peter Dagley, who worked in a company that made drills. No one would dream to ask questions about a job so dull.

Lily handed the letter off to the Postmaster along with seven knuts and watched as he tossed it in a shoot. She knew the letter would go straight to the Ministry to be processed and incorporated into the Muggle post—she worked in the D.M.A.C. and seen it done a hundred times—but hoped it would at least beat Dagley's release from St. Mungo's.

She took in a deep breath as she opened the door and exited the Post Office. "Merlin and Morgana," she muttered, filling her lungs with the biting cold air.

"Do you not have an owl?" McGonagall asked.

"I do, but she's busy delivering another letter and this couldn't wait."

They headed off again down High Street. The snow was falling faster now, and thicker, and Lily could only see several feet before her. At least she knew the way back to the castle, and had McGonagall with her—though the silence between them was unbearable.

Only after they had exited the town entirely and begun the trek back did Lily speak.

"Why did you mention Cassie?"

"Pardon?"

"You were talking about Cassie," Lily said awkwardly. "About our friendship..."

"The pair of you seemed at odds during the meeting," observed McGonagall. "Or rather, you seemed at odds with her. Strange, since she passionately vouched for your induction into the Order."

Lily bit her lip. "I'm not at odds with her," she muttered after a moment.

"No?"

"No," she repeated, a bit more firmly. "I only...we've shared everything for ten years. Some things I even wish we hadn't shared, but this—this is a huge secret she kept from me."

"She swore to keep it secret," McGonagall pointed out.

"I know, I know," Lily said. She kicked at a pile of freshly-fallen snow. "It might be petty but...I feel...left out. Like there's a part of her I don't even know. She's my best friend and she knows everything about me but meanwhile she's got this entire life I've known nothing about for Merlin knows how long...and that's not her fault but I don't want to look at her. It's awful. I'm awful."

"I've heard far worse reasons for not wanting to speak to a friend," said McGonagall. "I've had far worse reasons, too."

"I suppose I'm a bit possessive," admitted Lily after several minutes. "I've always wanted things to be just _mine_, since I grew up having to share so much. And I usually did get my way, especially with my parents. I can be awfully selfish at times."

McGonagall laughed. "I've never thought of you as selfish."

"No," she agreed. "I'm also a good liar. I'm very good at lying to myself, especially. Did you know, when Cassie started dating Fabian Prewett I absolutely _hated_ him? At the time I couldn't tell him apart from Gideon and I ended up treating Gid like gum on the bottom of my shoe for half an hour one day for absolutely no reason. All because I was jealous. That's rather horrible of me, isn't it?"

"Perhaps...it's very human of you, though."

"And I hate it when other people try to monopolise me in turn," Lily went on with a shake of her head. "How stupid of me."

"At least you know it's wrong," said McGonagall. They reached the gates and she opened them with a wave of her wand. "No one's asking you to be a perfect person, Lily, just for you to be a _good_ person. And I do believe you are."

Lily blushed at the compliment. She waited for McGonagall to seal the castle gates again after they walked through, and fell into step with her once more.

"It's just that she did something without me," Lily mused. "I got left behind and I hate that."

"She's spent the entirety of her time in the Order vouching for you," McGonagall told her. "She didn't want to leave you behind."

"I know," she said. "I'm really happy about that, I am—but I'm angry, too. I think I just need to burn out all the things that don't belong before I talk to her again. I don't want to say something hateful."

"That's a wise decision, then." McGonagall gave her a warm smile that Lily only just caught through the heavy snowfall. "You've grown up nicely."

"...Thank you. Minerva."

They didn't speak for the rest of the walk up to the castle.

Lily was privately glowing. Much of the overwhelming stress she'd felt throughout the meeting—since the massacre in Ottery St. Catchpole, in fact—had numbed in the light of McGonagall's words. It took her back to the days when she'd striven to match her Head of House's approval, when a smile from the stern woman could tilt the mood of her entire week upwards, although it was different now—a subtle shift in power Lily couldn't ignore.

This was what it meant to be Minerva McGonagall's colleague, then. Although Lily had only talked about herself the conversation didn't feel so one-sided. Instead they were equals in the discussion of one person's troubles. She felt she could ask McGonagall about her troubles and hear an honest answer—though not today. She was not ready to ask those questions yet.

At the very least, it gave her hope that this year could turn out better than its ominous beginning.

* * *

For the next two days, Lily glued herself to her desk.

She had some understanding of lesson planning thanks to her practice as a tutor (a requirement of her, as a Prefect), but this was rather different than helping a few students on an individual basis. Seven years of students required education and somehow she was seen as qualified to teach them. This had not been what she'd had in mind.

At least, Lily begrudgingly admitted, Flitwick had put some serious thought into the materials he left behind for her. There was a comprehensive list of what he'd covered in the previous semester and notes on which classes were further along than the others—unlike when Lily attended Hogwarts, when the classes were split up by House, the Slytherins and Ravenclaws were paired together and same with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. She wondered if the Houses were paired differently in other subjects.

The experience left her with a renewed respect for teachers. Anyone who could juggle all this planning—let alone actually _teaching_ their subject—was well-prepared to rule the world.

Lily broke up her long stretches of work with meals in the Great Hall, taking the time to get to know some of her new students. She enjoyed this much more than her struggles with lesson planning—the students grew comfortable with her presence after only a few meals, the sixth and seventh years even passing a few jokes with her.

Egan MacMillan particularly had latched himself onto her, apparently believing her connection to his "Aunt Meggie" meant they were to be fast friends. He was a fifth-year, Lily soon discovered, and lacked a filter between his thoughts to his mouth. But he was funny and eager, and she was charmed despite herself. She resolved to send a letter to Meg about her rambunctious nephew soon.

In addition to the students, Lily found she got along well with her fellow professors better than she'd expected.

After her talk with McGonagall on the walk back from Hogsmeade, she'd been able to speak to the other woman with much more ease, and this spread to the rest of the staff—except for Argus Filch, who eyed her with distaste and she him. Lily had quite a long chat over dinner on Monday with Hagrid, learning about his new job as gamekeeper and the Kneazle he'd adopted as a pet.

But the person she found most interesting by far was Uriah Meadowes.

He was only several years older than her, as it turned out, and had a sense of humour that took some getting used to. Before taking on a teaching post at Yamuna Prep several years past, Uriah had worked as a cursebreaker for Gringotts in New Delhi. He took great pride in his job, regaling the students with tales of dangerous curses in the old Gringotts vaults and the deadly traps set for thieves who dared enter the bank searching for treasure, which the children drank in with wide eyes.

To Lily's surprise he seemed quite keen on befriending her, though she didn't know why. If he came into the Great Hall after her, Uriah would take a seat next to her and initiate conversation. It never came across as flirting, for which she was grateful, but she didn't know what to make of his pursuit. It wasn't a matter of _disliking_ him, though. She wasn't sorry to talk with him. And thus, Lily settled in quietly at Hogwarts.

Tuesday afternoon heralded the end of this quiet with a gleeful bang.

At around three o'clock, Lily's concentration on her lesson plans was broken by a growing cacophony. First there were running footsteps passing by her door, with the faint sounds of chatting and laughter echoing up. Then the talking filtered into the corridor outside her office, coupled with high-pitched giggles and shrieking as students greeted each other after the holidays.

Lily was no stranger to loud noises around her while she worked—between her own time as a student and the years spent working at the Ministry, she'd developed the ability to fix her attention to the task at hand. However, the dull roar in the background was not the only thing she had to deal with. About an hour into this welcoming chaos she jumped in her seat as something smacked against her door.

"OY!" she heard a boy shout.

For a moment, she hesitated. If there was fighting in the corridors it was her responsibility to stop it, but on the other hand if the students were just roughhousing Lily didn't want to make that her introduction. No one liked a stick-in-the-mud sort of professor.

Then she heard another shout outside her office, this from a girl.

"Come off it!"

Lily sighed and rose from her desk. She strode across her office and yanked open the door—and was nearly hit in the face. She blinked and stepped back.

Three suits of armour battled each other in the corridor, hacking and slashing at each other with their weapons. One wielded a sword in either hand and swung them excellently at the other two. It battled a suit of armour that swung a flail rather talentlessly and another suit mercilessly swinging a long staff-like weapon with an axe head at the top. A fourth suit of armour lay in a heap at the end of the corridor, another staff like weapon lying uselessly several feet away, this one topped with a short, fat blade.

The suit of armour with the flail compensated for its inept handling by swinging the heavy spiked ball high above his head (she assumed it was a "him"). Probably a good idea, so as not to take oneself out of the battle. The flail struck out and wrapped around one of the two swords in an attempt to yank it away.

However, the sword fighter was rather good. He pivoted on his heel and jabbed his elbow up high into what would have been the flail-wielder's armpit. The flail wielder released his weapon and stumbled dangerously close to a spectator—and no sooner had the sword fighter made this move, the other suit of armour struck from high above with the axe-head. The arm with the flail-entangled sword flew into the crowd from the elbow down and students went scrambling away from the danger.

The battle was clearly getting out of hand, though it was fascinating to watch. Most of the students were still laughing and cheering but several of them were on the ground, clutching at wounds on their arms. One boy on the ground beside her—Lily assumed he was the one who'd hit her office door—was holding the back of his head with a grimace.

She cleared her throat and prepared herself to scold the spell casters, but a booming voice cut across the spectacle.

"What on earth is this? _Finite Incantatem!_"

The suits of armour crumpled to the ground, eliciting groans from most of the spectators. Lily released a sigh, glad she didn't have to make her first appearance like this.

A young man strode up, clearly a student, with his wand outstretched and wearing an annoyed expression. She saw a gleam of silver on his chest and understood this was the Head Boy.

"Alright, who did this?" he demanded, storming past Lily without a passing glance. Several students were following him with their eyes, then caught sight of Lily, and she felt their confused stares as she watched the Head Boy move toward the fallen suit of armour, the one that had collapsed before Lily had seen it in action.

"Who's that?"

"Is she a professor?"

"What's she doing in Flitwick's office?"

"_You lot again!_" the Head Boy hollered.

All Lily heard after that was a loud scampering of feet as the culprits ran away from their would-be punisher. She gave a little shrug and smiled at the students awkwardly before shutting her door again and leaning against it.

That had been some fancy Charms work, whoever it had been. She hoped the students responsible would be in her class. It would be so much fun to teach someone truly gifted in Charms, like Flitwick had taught her—if she managed to rein in their potential.

* * *

_Probably at this point you've realized I didn't update on Valentine's Day because anything particularly exciting or romantic happened in this chapter. We're still in the exposition chapters, after all. (Only one more after this, and the mass character meet-and-greets will be done!) Rather, I posted the new chapter today as a gift of love to you, to patient darlings who saw that I was a busy, haphazard wreck and let me work on this story at my own pace. You are all magnificent beings. I'll try my best to post chapter four in a more timely fashion!_


	4. Of Students and Nightmares

**A Matter of Timing**

**Chapter Four  
Of Students and Nightmares**

"Not eating, are you?" Uriah asked at her left. "You feeling alright?"

"If I eat I might vomit," Lily muttered, and then cringed. She hadn't meant to say that aloud. She turned to him and pasted on a smile she hoped was convincing. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit of nerves. It'll pass soon enough."

Uriah nodded and dug back into his potatoes. Lily looked out toward the sea of students once more and leaned back in her chair.

Sitting at one of the long House tables in the Great Hall at dinnertime had long lost its splendor for Lily, but it had been a real shock when she'd come out of the staff room and stood behind the raised table. She hadn't expected herself to feel overwhelmed by the size of the hall.

She hadn't expected to feel intimidated by the students, either. From this distance all she could distinguish were hands and heads moving on either side of the tables, calling to mind a many-legged creature on its back and writhing about rather than a mass of children.

At first, anyhow.

Once the novelty of sitting behind the staff table had passed, she'd begun to realise something was missing. A sense of wrongness had crept in, slowly but surely putting her on edge. That was when she'd noticed the tables were shorter than they'd been back when Lily was a student.

"_I'm afraid we've cut back on our staff in recent years,_" McGonagall had said that first night.

Fewer staff, because there were fewer students.

She'd known this. Lily had known this, because her work with Dagley meant visiting the parents of Muggle-born students and convincing them of the safety of Hogwarts. Not every parent _could_ be convinced. And she'd heard her older coworkers mention friends who had taken their children out of school, sometimes fleeing the country.

This amount…this _absence_ in the Great Hall was far more than she'd imagined, or had allowed herself to imagine.

The tables were shorter. That was why the room seemed larger. And that was why Lily felt sick.

"Awful," she muttered to herself.

"What's that?" asked Uriah.

Lily pursed her lips, hesitating for a long moment before asking, "Is Yamuna Prep the only school for magic in India?"

"Hmm?" his eyebrows went up. "No, it's one of four."

That made sense—India was much larger and much more populous than the United Kingdom.

She cleared her throat. "How many students does it hold?"

Uriah put down his knife and fork and gave the question some serious thought. "Probably eight hundred," he said at last. "No—nine hundred, I think? We didn't all have meals together like this."

"You know, Hogwarts is the only wizarding school in the UK. How many students would you say are out there…three hundred, perhaps?"

"Should there be more?"

Lily nodded. "Three times as many. At least there were, when I was a student. But that was eight years ago. Obviously, things have changed."

"Ah…" Uriah rubbed his jaw. He seemed at a loss for how to respond and kept glancing out at the students, then back at her.

What was the point, Lily wondered bitterly, of all those hours at the Ministry fighting Followers and monsters and keeping everything hushed up from the Muggles, if they couldn't even keep children alive? Not all of the absence in the Great Hall could be chalked up to students being kept home or fleeing the country, after all. What good was any of it?

What had she, Lily Evans, done in the past four years that had mattered?

"I suppose," Uriah said, puncturing her brooding with his voice like a needle in a balloon, "we do the best we can, here, with what we have. They're all still here"—he swept an arm to indicate the students—"so that's who we'll pay attention to."

"Mm."

"Oy, you," he said, and elbowed her in the ribs. "At least eat _something_ before it all goes away. You won't want to look like a ghost when Dumbledore introduces you to the students."

After a moment, she let her shoulders drop—she hadn't even noticed how tensed up she'd been—and pulled some roast chicken and potatoes onto her plate.

It all tasted good, as she knew it would, but she ate with a rote dispassion, biting and chewing and swallowing because she ought to and not because she was enjoying it. But Uriah didn't say another word about food until she'd cleared her plate and he suggested to her a bread roll to sop up the juices.

When she sat back, her stomach full and her plate practically shining, Lily had to admit to herself that she felt the tiniest bit better.

Only a minute later the tableware vanished.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and raised his hand, and the near-deafening roar of chatter trickled off into a hushed whisper in mere seconds.

"Welcome back," he said into the waiting silence. "As always, Hogwarts is here to welcome you home. For those who have not returned, we hope for their safety."

When Lily was a student there had been whispers of disappearances here and there, but it hadn't once affected anyone she knew. She tried to imagine going back to school for a new semester and wondering how many of her classmates would be returning with her.

"I've a few announcements," Dumbledore went on. "First, after review we have decided to reopen Hogsmeade visits for third years and above—"

A loud cheering erupted from all four tables at that, and it took nearly a minute for the noise to die down enough for Dumbledore to continue speaking.

"Second, on a less pleasant note, after this afternoon's…_shenanigans_, any student bewitching the suits of armour in the corridors will be subject to a detention of Mr Filch's choosing."

The Gryffindor table had a small rippling murmur at that.

"And lastly, you may have noticed that Professor Flitwick is not here," Dumbledore said. Lily looked to him and saw his eyes were twinkling. "I say 'may' because he is sometimes difficult to spot."

Even Lily managed a chuckle at that.

"None of you need worry—for the next year, Professor Flitwick will be on sabbatical in Peru and therefore will be unavailable to teach Charms here at Hogwarts. Let's all wish him the best during his travels since he is extremely happy to be taking this long-overdue vacation. In his stead, allow me to introduce Professor Lily Evans, who has graciously agreed to fill in on short notice."

All eyes snapped to Lily at once and she gave an awkward, tight-lipped smile. She was saved from the scrutiny, however, when the silence was cut by two loud _thunks_ from the Gryffindor table, and everyone's heads swiveled. She couldn't help but look over as well.

From what Lily could gather, two goblets full of pumpkin juice had been knocked over and were spilling all over the table, though wands were out and drying up the mess. The cause of it had been Annie Miyamura, who must have bumped them in surprise when she heard Lily's name. The poor girl's face was a brilliant, burning red thanks to all the stares she was receiving.

Lily waved at Annie, who could only stare at her hands as she sank lower in her seat.

"You know her?" Uriah murmured in her ear.

"We met over break," she whispered.

"Poor thing," he said. "She looks like she wants to vanish."

"Oh, she'll be fine," said Lily. "She's stronger than she looks."

As she'd done many times over the last few days, Lily recalled the determined look in Annie Miyamura's eyes when Lily had suggested getting her memory wiped.

"Her? But she's so quiet in my class."

"Probably because she's busy learning."

Uriah looked over at Annie, who had all but slipped under the table at this point, and then back at Lily. "I'll give you a month to lose that sort of thinking. At most."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and Annie was spared further embarrassment.

"I ask that you treat Professor Evans with the respect she deserves," he said, as if nothing had happened. "Good night to all of you."

It took a moment for the students to realise they'd been dismissed, and then there was a great scraping of bench legs on stone as everyone stood up at once. Lily winced at the noise.

"Nightcap?" suggested Uriah.

"Mm," she said, shaking her head. "I ought to go to sleep. Important day tomorrow."

He stood and stretched his arms out, yawning softly. "Well, your loss. I'll be in the staff room if you change your mind."

"Thanks," said Lily. "Some other night, perhaps."

"Alright, then," he said. "Remember, if you've any questions you can come to me for them. I promise I won't laugh. Much."

She managed to produce a chuckle as he patted her shoulder and went back into the staff room behind them.

The point, she grasped abruptly, the point of everything she'd done—perhaps not _everything_, but enough of it—was that she'd done something. Annie Miyamura was still alive, after all. At least she'd done that. If Lily accomplished nothing else of significance in her life, at least she had done one good thing.

She got up and followed Uriah through the staff room door.

* * *

Just as Lily was getting into bed, she heard a light rap on her window. She paused, dropping the sheets from her hand and tucking her hair behind her ear, checking to see if she'd imagined the sound or not.

She hadn't. The tapping sounded behind the window curtains and Lily crossed the room to open them.

"Angelia!" she said happily as her owl fluttered up and down outside. Lily quickly cranked open the window pane and stood back to let Angelia into the room, then closed it again to keep the warmth inside. "Good grief, it's cold!"

Lily scrambled to her trunk and pulled out the bird cage she hadn't yet unpacked. She reached blindly for her wand before realising she'd left it on her nightstand, and scrambled over to pick it up. With a flick of her wand the cage grew three sizes. Angelia flew straight into it and alighted on the perch, cooing pleasantly and preening her feathers.

Lily's chest tightened with a familiar awfulness.

"No letter from Petunia, then," she murmured, more to herself than the bird. "Well. That's to be expected."

And yet...and yet she was still stung, still hurt all over again without any rational explanation. Petunia had never replied to any of her letters sent by owl (not that there had been many, after the first year at Hogwarts) and had made her disdain of owls quite clear time and time again. Lily's first owl Bartholomew had been unceremoniously thrown out of the house in Lily's fifth year during her visit over Christmas holiday. Feathers strewn everywhere, high-pitched screeching from both her sister and the bird—it had been a nightmare and a half.

At least Petunia had sent her a wedding invitation, and Lily could only take that as an olive branch. That was something, after all.

"You could roost in the Owlery if you like," Lily suggested as she tugged a pouch of owl pellets from her trunk. "I think you'd like it. Birds of a feather, you know." She chuckled at her weak pun. "Here you are."

Angelia took her owl pellets gently, doing her best not to peck Lily's hand with her beak. She was an unusually gentle bird, constantly going out of her way to keep Lily from getting hurt. Lily could honestly say Angelia was one of only a few beings she could count on to behave in such a manner.

Her mouth twisted as she remembered the others she'd thought of in the same manner before forcing herself to ignore those thoughts. She wasn't quite ready to dwell on Cassie and the twins just yet.

"There, darling," she said to Angelia once she'd finished eating from Lily's hand. She stroked her owl's head and Angelia's eyes closed in contentment. "Beautiful girl."

And then she heard another knock.

"Did you bring a friend?" Lily teased her owl before she heard the knock again and realised it was on her door, not the window.

That was strange. Whoever it was had walked right through her office to reach her chambers—and Lily was almost certain she'd locked up her office for the night. She held her wand to her side as she moved to the door, and she pulled it open like ripping off a plaster.

"Profes—ah, er, Minerva," Lily stammered in surprise. "Good evening."

"I hope I didn't wake you," McGonagall said, eyeing Lily's nightgown and braided hair.

"No," said Lily. "No, I wasn't even in bed yet. Is something the matter?"

"Not particularly, but I'm afraid I let something fall through the cracks." On any other person, Lily might have considered McGonagall's expression to be one of nervousness. "Could we perhaps speak in your office?"

Lily nodded. "Of course. Let me put on a robe, and…would you like some tea?"

Her mouth thinned a little. "No, thank you. This won't take long."

"Alright," she said. "I'll be just a moment."

Lily shut the door slowly, hoping to not appear rude. A light case of nerves came over her, an irrational emotion brought on by nights at Hogwarts interrupted by her irate Head of House for any number of things. It was a silly reaction. McGonagall wasn't here to scold Lily, not when Lily was completely free of wrongdoing.

She hurried over to her bathroom door to throw on her bathrobe, pulling it close around herself. It didn't feel like enough clothing to wear for a meeting with McGonagall, especially since the woman still had her full set of robes on and looked as sharp as she'd been since morning, but Lily squared her shoulders and went back to her door.

"Sorry for the wait," she said as she walked down the stairs.

McGonagall was already seated in the plush chair on the students' side of the desk, the chair closer to the hallway door. She had positioned it so the back was to the door and she was facing Lily. Her ankles crossed under her robes and she appeared deep in thought, brought out of it as she heard Lily speak.

Rather than sit her chair behind the desk, Lily chose the chair opposite McGonagall and sat down a bit stiffly.

After a long moment of silence, she prompted, "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes. That." McGonagall tapped her left pointer finger on the arm of the chair with a slow, steady rhythm. "As you know, we appoint Prefects for a number of reasons, academic success being only one of many. In selecting Prefects we look for…leadership attributes and someone who will not abuse their power over other students."

"I know," said Lily in confusion.

"And you're also aware that, while Professor Dumbledore believes in a certain amount of exposure for children—letting them experience unpleasantness from time to time helps them learn and grow into adults—he holds their safety as his highest priority."

She didn't say anything, just nodded.

McGonagall hesitated before continuing. "I hope you understand that if I ever thought Albus might be taking a risk with our students, I would oppose him. My students are my highest priority as well, you see." She smiled briefly—tightly—at Lily. "So I hope you won't be upset when I tell you this."

"Minerva, please," Lily said, "whatever it is, I can't believe it will be so terrible as to make me doubt you."

"That all depends on your perspective," she said. "What I'm trying to tell you is that for the last five and a half years, we've had a werewolf among our students."

Lily's breath came out of her in a forced exhale as her chest tightened painfully.

"A _what?_"

"A werewolf."

McGonagall's eyes were focused behind her spectacles, a sharp glint that Lily stared into numbly.

"A werewolf," Lily repeated. Her thoughts went into loops and whirls as she struggled to digest this tiny, terrifying sentence. And then she sat straight up. "A _werewolf?_"

"He's a good boy," McGonagall said immediately. "A kind boy. He's the Prefect for Gryffindor in sixth year. Outside of the full moon he wouldn't hurt anyone, and we've taken all the precautions—"

"A werewolf in the school? Are you mad?"

"Not at all."

Lily reached up to run her fingers through her hair and winced—she'd forgotten about her braid.

"Merlin…" she thought on that frantically. "Was he turned as a student? I mean, was he a student here when it happened? I haven't heard of any cases of teenagers in a werewolf attack—"

"It happened before he came to the school," McGonagall said. "Years before he was a student."

_Years?_

"Good Lord," she managed through her shock. He must have been so young… Against her better nature, Lily added in a rush, "It's safe to have him here? You're certain it's safe?"

McGonagall might as well have Vanished her lips with how thin they'd become, pressed together as they were. "I assured you, did I not, that I would not let any harm come to my students. Certainly not from a werewolf attack, and certainly not from anything else."

Lily winced.

"I just can't imagine anywhere in the castle that would be safe enough," she said to clear the air.

"He doesn't spend the full moon in the castle," said McGonagall. "That new willow on the grounds holds a secret passageway into Hogsmeade."

"The tree the students call the Whomping Willow?"

Lily had heard Egan MacMillan call it that, referring to an old game the school had outlawed in his first year where the students would try to see how close they could get to touch it before the monstrosity swung at them. She'd wondered at the addition of such a dangerous tree on the grounds, but if it was to hide the entrance of a werewolf's lair then she could almost see the appeal.

Almost.

"Indeed," McGonagall said. "You remember the abandoned Holloway house on the outskirts of town? Albus bought it and turned the house into a safe room for Remus to use on full moons. His transformations are…painful, and the villagers have become so frightened by the sounds that they've taken to calling it the Shrieking Shack. They say it's haunted with terrible spirits and have fenced off the property."

"Clever," said Lily. She certainly saw the wisdom in buying the Holloway house—the Holloways had reportedly been an unpleasant lot and no one had taken much interest in the land they'd left behind.

Even cleverer was letting the Hogsmeade villagers invent and feed a rumour of a haunting. Muggle teenagers might raid a haunted building, but anyone in the wizarding world with half a brain or less knew ghosts were a nasty business when violent and wouldn't go near the place. And even if they did, she couldn't think of anyone brave enough to approach a haunted house on a full moon.

A lot of thought had been put into this, then. She couldn't argue that, but she still had some concerns.

"The parents, though," she began, and then backpedaled. "The parents of the other students probably object to their children attending school with a werewolf, don't they?"

"I'm certain they would, if they knew," McGonagall said. Lily detected a note of bitterness in her voice. "So far, we've kept it a secret among the students. Only the staff know, and we've all agreed to keep it amongst ourselves. I daresay the poor boy has gotten far too used to people knocking him down. We decided…well, he's had enough trouble."

"You said his name is Remus?"

"Remus Lupin."

"And he's a sixth year."

McGonagall leaned forward slightly. "I can vouch for his character, if you like. He's a good boy who works hard and doesn't complain. He's kind."

"You've said all that," Lily murmured.

"I want to be sure," said McGonagall, in a voice that could cut glass, "that you won't treat him any differently. It takes some time for all of our new teachers to adjust to the idea, but I'm hopeful that you can see him for who he is, given your unique perspective."

Lily frowned. "You mean because I'm Muggle-born."

"Because you're Muggle-born in a time of radical Muggle hatred, yes."

At least McGonagall wasn't making soft allusions or padding her words. Lily despised people who referred to her Muggle-born status in roundabout, careful wording designed to hide the word "Muggle" as if it were a slur or a disservice. However…

"The two are hardly similar," Lily said. "Both are marginalised, yes, but Muggle-borns are simply people with magic and no matter how much you like this boy, you can't deny that werewolves are dangerous come full moon. Whether they intend to be or not, they are _dangerous_ by nature. There's nothing an untrained Muggle-born could do that would approach the sort of damage a werewolf at full moon could cause."

"I had hoped you would be more empathetic, is what I meant."

Lily didn't like being made to feel guilty about anything, but she tired of this conversation and surrendered. It wouldn't do to start a fight with Minerva McGonagall.

"I won't ostracise him in class," she told McGonagall wearily. "I won't treat him any differently than the other students."

"That's all I need from you," McGonagall said. "And your word you won't go telling people about this."

"I'm rather good at keeping secrets," said Lily, "but I'm sure you know that, since you vouched for me with the Order."

McGonagall smiled. "Vouching for you was more of a…an appraisal of character, but I do trust you to keep your word." She stood up and brushed her robes down to smooth out any wrinkles. "I hope you do well tomorrow."

Lily's stomach did an odd little flip. "Oh. Yes. I do too."

She stood up as well, following McGonagall to the door leading out of her office. She opened it for the other woman and smiled as widely as she dared, for fear of looking forced. Lily had years to go before she could fool her former professor, however, and McGonagall gave her a sympathetic grimace.

"Good night, Minerva," she said with a light tone.

"Good night, Lily," McGonagall replied. It sounded much more like "good luck."

* * *

Lily was still shaking when she knocked on the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's door—or at least, she hoped it was the right door. She hadn't actually visited the office since returning to the school.

Thankfully, she heard Uriah's voice calling through the thick wood, "It's open!"

She turned the handle and let herself in, awkwardly peering into the small room.

"Sorry to bother you," she said by way of greeting.

Uriah was sorting his bookcase across the room, neck craned as he shuffled tomes a shelf too high for his reach, occasionally resorting to a wave of his wand to get the job done. He looked over his shoulder at her voice.

"Ah, Lily! No bother at all," he assured her. "Give me one moment and I'll be free to chat."

"Thank you."

"Of course! Take a seat."

Lily shut the door and trudged over to the plush green chair, settling in and admiring how comfortable it was. None of the chairs in her office were this nice…she decided to charm them so it felt like sitting in a bed of pillows when she returned. Or at least her own, if nothing else.

By the window lay a brightly woven rug, red and gold and green, swirls of colour that drew her gaze and held it captive. It looked as though the colours were actually moving and swimming, and after a moment's thought she considered they probably were.

"My ma gave that to me," Uriah said as he passed her on his way to sit down. "A welcome home gift. She was quite glad I returned to England."

"Even though your parents sent you abroad for school," Lily said.

"Well, it's no different from sending your child off to Hogwarts for ten months out of the year," Uriah pointed out. "The fact that I stayed in New Delhi for so long to teach was what upset her. Especially after my father passed. I try to visit her on the weekends if I can. Anyhow, what brings you here?"

She fidgeted in the comfortable chair. "Ah…er, you said I could talk to you if I needed help with something…"

"Already?" he chuckled. Lily wasn't sure what sort of face she made at that, but whatever it was, Uriah's smile slid off his face like water off a stone. "What happened?"

She sighed, long and deep and miserable.

"I had my first class just now, before lunch," said Lily. She put her head in her hands. "Third years, a mix of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Back in my day mixed classes were rare for the cores like Charms or Transfiguration…well, what happened was…"

What had happened was this:

Lily had slept poorly, her thoughts and dreams on werewolves. She'd been distracted throughout breakfast, barely listening to Professor Sprout beside her, and entered her first class of the day with very little preparation. This had not served her well.

Even before the bell had rung to signal the start of class, her students wouldn't even look at her. They'd talked so loudly and determinedly that ten minutes passed before she had managed to quiet them. Even then it had been a malicious quiet, as if they were all waiting for the opportune moment to strike, and that had put Lily on edge and off kilter.

The real trouble had begun when she had taken attendance. The third years of both Houses must have colluded at breakfast because they all responded to the wrong names. Lily knew they were wrong names because it had been so spitefully obvious—no parent would name their son Mary-Alice, nor their daughter Geoffrey. At last she'd given up and moved on to discussing the lesson plans, but now that the beasts had pounced they were not satisfied until they'd torn her to shreds.

According to her students, Flitwick's notes on their progress in the previous semesters were all wrong. Flitwick had never once been inaccurate in the seven years Lily had been his student and she couldn't imagine he'd let himself slide, but her third years were viciously insistent.

The remainder of the class time had been spent in locked debate over which spells had been learned and which hadn't. At least Lily hadn't budged on that front, but neither had they.

For a witch who'd so often prided herself on a stiff backbone and steady nerves, it was beyond humiliating to lose to a room of thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds.

"They ran roughshod all over me," she summed up after explaining all this aloud.

Uriah thought about this, and then snorted. "You've never taught a class before, have you?"

"Of course I haven't!" she snapped, leaning back in her chair. "I'm a Ministry witch, for Merlin's sake! I deal with bureaucrats and disgruntled citizens, not hell beasts."

"And that's your problem," he informed her. His arms folded atop the desk as he leaned in. "You're used to being polite and diplomatic, aren't you?"

Lily paused, her mouth half-open to argue.

That was actually true, if she thought about it. What happened on her Squad was different, that was between coworkers—her actual job of speaking to higher-ups, or managing Muggle affairs like speaking to Muggle-born parents involved a good amount of smiling and smoothing over bad feeling.

"Well—"

"And those third years took advantage of that," Uriah went on. He waggled a finger at her. "Like right now, you're letting me speak over you."

"I'm not _letting_ you," she mumbled in defiance. But he was right, and she knew it.

He chuckled in that easy way of his. "Teaching is different. These brats aren't looking for a mediator, they're looking for a mentor. You're not their friend, you're not their accommodating helper—you're their teacher and their disciplinarian. You can't ever treat them like they're equal to you because in the classroom and outside it, they are not. You're in charge. I'm going to take a guess that you've never held a management position, either."

"No..." she admitted reluctantly. "But I don't want to come off superior—"

"You are, though," he said. "Not as a human being, perhaps, but you're more knowledgeable than them in Charms, and they have to defer to your expertise."

"So I can't be friendly," Lily said, her shoulders slumping. She hated the thought of it—she had been friendly with her teachers, Flitwick especially, and Slughorn had always taken a shine to her. The sort of professor Lily wanted to be wasn't the one Uriah described, closer to McGongall than Flitwick.

Uriah shook his head. "You can be friendly," he corrected her, "but you can't be friends. See the difference?"

She thought about it. "I suppose."

"Don't treat them like you're trying to get on their good side. It's their job to get on yours, not the other way around."

Lily sighed and rubbed her forehead. "That's all well and good," she told him, "and thank you, but how on earth do I go about doing that?"

He smirked. "That class you had just now? They weren't trying to mess with you just for the fun of it. They want to push and see how far you'll bend."

"What?"

"It's a test," said Uriah as he reclined into his chair. "They've just gotten back from holiday, they've got a new teacher—'how much can we get away with,' is what they're thinking. I promise your next class will be just like them, if not worse. Who do you have?"

"The sixth years," she sighed.

Uriah nodded. "We've got a bunch of smart ones in that year. Smart arses, to boot. Well, here's the secret to making them respect you: prove you're better than them."

"Oh? And that means…"

"Show them who's in charge in that classroom," he said. "One grand act of magic, really put it all out there—impress them, and then don't give any ground. Lay down the law as soon as you can. You'll have to improvise when you get your third year students back for a second lesson, though, since that sort of trick won't work on them."

"Be better than them," Lily repeated slowly. It sounded far too simple. "That's really it?"

"That's really it. Listen, students can _tell_ when their professor isn't confident. They're predatory that way." He shrugged, smiling. "Don't be their prey."

_Easier said than done_, Lily argued, but didn't say it aloud. Instead she said, "Thanks."

"Mm hmm, not a problem," he answered, and raised his eyebrows. "You seem awfully upset, though."

"Who wouldn't be?" she said. "I've always been good at these sorts of things—always top of my class, Prefect, Head Girl—and I'm…I'm much more used to being the person sought out for advice, rather than the seeker."

"You can't expect to be good at something like teaching right away," Uriah told her. "It's not possible. That's not how it works."

Lily bit her lip and turned her eyes downcast. She knew that. Never once had she imagined that teaching would be a breeze, not _once_, but to have gotten off to such a terrible start…she hadn't imagined that, either.

Uriah cleared his throat. "Hungry? It is lunchtime, after all."

She hadn't thought about it. She'd been too focused on her failure of a first lesson to even consider food…but now that Uriah had gone and mentioned it, her stomach was helpfully reminding her of her very light breakfast.

"Well, I was about to head down to the kitchens and grab a bite," said Uriah, "since I don't really feel like eating with a crowd. You're welcome to join me; if you do, I'll tell you all about my unfortunate first year of teaching and you can laugh at me. You _do_ know where the kitchens are, don't you? Or were you a prim-and-proper princess back in school?"

Lily's mouth opened. "Excuse you," she said, "I may have been Head Girl but I didn't have a stick up my arse. Of course I know where the bloody kitchens are."

Her best friend since fourth year had been Cassie Delaney, Hufflepuff and delinquent extraordinaire, after all. Sneaking down to the kitchens after curfew was only one of the lesser offences she had committed.

"Alright, alright, no need to be vulgar," Uriah teased as he stood.

"If you think that's vulgar," Lily replied, "you should meet my friend."

* * *

Lily had more or less gotten her confidence back by the time lunch was over and classes were to start; she said farewell to Uriah on the third floor landing and strolled down the corridor to her classroom, determined to put on a better show this afternoon than she had this morning. N.E.W.T. level students were eager to learn, right? Or was that just her…

She'd only just arrived and had begun shuffling papers on her desk when the first pair of students arrived—boy and girl, arms interlocked. Clearly, they didn't care whether or not Lily was in the room.

"Promise you'll come eat dinner with me," the girl begged.

"I suppose it won't hurt," said the boy before planting a kiss on her cheek and scurrying off, a brilliant flush settling on his cheeks and neck.

Lily watched him exit her classroom with some amazement, and then turned to observe the girl who was sighing happily. Had another group of girls not stumbled through the doorway just then, Lily was certain the moment would have grown awkward between student and teacher. Young love. That was something she hadn't seen in years.

Once the first few had come in, the rest of her sixth year N.E.W.T. students followed in a flood of hoots, laughs, and chatter that had her wincing from the suddenness. She endured it until the bell rang—an astonishingly long two minutes—and then cleared her throat.

"All right, settle down," Lily called out.

The sixth years continued to gab loudly, and a couple of black-haired boys started throwing crumpled pieces of parchment at each other without any attention paid to her efforts.

"Excuse me," she said, a little louder now.

Absolutely nothing. Lily had stood in front of battle-hardened Aurors, cold-blooded politicians, and a trial board on the Committee for Experimental Charms, none of them willing to listen to a young Muggle-born woman, yet none of them had made her feel quite so powerless as these teenagers.

The two boys tossing parchment were joined by another boy with blond hair and a stout physique. His aim was less precise than the other boys, and a missed shot hit the back of a girl's head. She shrieked her displeasure, and Lily winced at the sound.

"_Excuse me!"_

The girl began tossing hexes at the boys, who pulled out their wands.

"Oy, calm down, Jones," one of them called.

"You rat, Pettigrew!" Jones screeched. "You did that on purpose!"

Lily stared. _Were we that hideous in sixth year?_ she wondered. Certainly not—except she did recall that one time she and Cassie had given Professor Marsh the runaround…

_I was a prefect and Head Girl,_ Lily reminded herself, straightening her spine. _I wrangled students for three years. Remember what Uriah said—show them who's in charge with one grand act._ An idea caught hold in her mind and she snapped her wand at the classroom.

It took a few moments for everyone to realise what she had done, but eventually all thirty-one pairs of eyes snapped to her, mouthing their shock soundlessly.

"Hello," Lily said, smiling pleasantly and with more than a little smugness in her tone. "I'm your new professor, Lily Evans. Professor Dumbledore introduced me last night. Thank you for giving me your full and undivided attention, it's so appreciated. I'm new to teaching, so the respectful welcome you've shown me so far has been the highlight of my day."

The sixth years all looked rather stunned, glancing at each other in confusion and back up at her.

"Yes, you can see that this class could have started much better," she told them, her smile still in place. "I'm sure you won't make that mistake again. Now, has Professor Flitwick started you on nonverbal spellcasting?"

A couple students raised their hands before remembering they couldn't answer her.

"Yeah, he started us on nonverbals at the beginning of last term."

It was a boy with messy black hair, one of the pair who'd been throwing parchment about. His colouring was a shade or two lighter Uriah's but still quite dark. He reclined in his chair with crossed arms and smirking lips, his wand dangling carelessly between his right fingers. Lily imagined he took a great pleasure in confrontation, or at least in winning. His sharp eyes observed her behind thin, rectangular frames.

She glanced down at her list of students. "What's your name?"

"James Potter." He said this as though it were a very important fact.

Lily glanced down at her roster to find his House. "Very nice to meet you, Mr Potter," she said. "Ten points to Gryffindor for being the first student to remove the Silencing Charm."

He leaned back in his chair a bit further, a smirk blossoming on his face.

"And five points from Gryffindor for tossing parchment around instead of paying attention at the beginning of class," she continued. Potter's smile partially collapsed, much to her amusement. "And your two friends? Names and Houses?"

"Sirius Black," said the other black-haired boy. He leaned forward in his seat much as a thrill-seeker might lean over a bridge rail, elbows on desk, grey eyes alert and glinting. He was interesting—a gleefulness mingled with his admission of guilt, like he was searching for punishment. "Also Gryffindor. Same with my mate Peter Pettigrew here."

"Excellent, five points from both of you as well."

The still-silent Pettigrew slumped in his seat dejectedly.

Lily spared him a glance. He was…washed out, reminding her of amateur watercolor painting. Nothing about him struck her as remarkable, so what was he doing with these two? She put the thought aside.

"To be clear," she addressed the three of them, "I don't enjoy taking points from you. After all, Gryffindor was my house." She raised her voice for the rest of the class. "If you can take the Silencing Charm off yourself by the end of class, there will be no homework. If not, a roll of parchment on the necessities of nonverbal spells and their various uses in critical situations. I'll know if you help another student remove the charm, and I _will_ take points. We already know Mr Black and Mr Potter will be free of homework, so it _can_ be done if you put your mind to it."

"Yeah, but we're clever," Potter replied cockily.

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Yes, I had assumed all N.E.W.T. level students were clever enough to handle nonverbal spellwork. Unless you're implying you and Mr Black are superior to all your classmates, which I sincerely hope not."

Potter shrugged. "Not _superior_…but we are top of our class."

"Congratulations," she said dryly. "I hope that makes you very happy. I rather suspect it does."

Although most of the class was still silent (Lily could see most of the students hard at work on releasing their Silencing Charms), a few chuckles greeted her assessment of Potter. For his part, Potter's smirk remained and he kept his attention solely on her.

"Now," Lily continued, "I'd rather not be a stranger to you, so if you have any questions for me this is a good time to ask."

A girl raised her hand, the one Lily recognised as Jones. "Do you know why Professor Flitwick went on sabbatical?"

"Jones, is it?" Lily glanced down at her class roster. "Hestia Jones?" The girl nodded. "I do, in fact. Professor Flitwick has long been interested in studying ancient Incan Charms, and this was the time he chose to take a leave of absence and make good on his interests. I must say, I'm rather envious of him; even the little we know of their spellwork is incredible. Also, Miss Jones, I do need to take five points from your House for throwing hexes in my classroom."

"…I'm in Hufflepuff, Professor."

"Thank you for your honesty," Lily told her, trying to infuse her smile with sympathy and sternness. She wasn't at all sure she'd succeeded; Hestia Jones looked upset at the loss of points.

Another hand shot up; Sirius Black leaned forward in his seat. "What did you do before you came here?" he called out.

"I work at the Ministry," she began. "I'm employed as a—"

"You _work_ at the Ministry?" Black interrupted. "But you're here now."

"Yes; I'm only here for two terms," said Lily. "It's fascinating the things you learn if you don't interrupt people when they're talking."

"Alright, sorry, sorry," Black said, sounding not sorry at all. "So what did you do at the Ministry—sorry, what _do_ you do there?"

"I'm a hit wizard."

Most of the class sat up a bit straighter in their seats, more hands shooting up. Black and Potter were the exceptions, Black leaning over his desk and Potter still reclining in his seat.

Lily pointed to the boy sitting to Potter's left. His sandy blond hair brushed dangerously close to his eyes, threatening to cover them entirely. He was pale with scars marring his chin and the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, Mr…?"

"Remus Lupin," the boy said. "And—sorry, shouldn't it be hit _witch?_"

The werewolf, she realised, the one McGonagall had spoken to her about. Even if she hadn't known his name she might have guessed. No other student would hold themselves so delicately under her gaze. Her neighbour in Cokeworth had a small dog, a rescued animal that was beaten by its previous owner. The way it shied away from touch as if expecting to receive a hit…this boy reminded her strongly of that little dog.

"Excellent question; I'm glad you asked that," she said. "That's a very common misconception. While Medi-wizards and Medi-witches make a distinction between genders, hit wizards are like Aurors. It's a title."

"What do hit wizards _do?_" said Black. He had his hand facing the general direction of up. "I mean, if we've already got Aurors, what's the point of hit wizards?"

"Aurors face the larger threats to our world, such as Dark wizards and giant attacks," Lily explained. "Hit wizards take care of lesser criminals, disturbances, and threats to the International Statute of Secrecy. At least, that's how it's supposed to be during a time of peace. The last few years have been a bit unusual."

Another hand went up. "Why is it unusual?"

"Because of the war, Miss…"

"Selwynn. Estella Selwynn," the girl said. With her platinum hair and her ice blue eyes, she looked like she'd been carved out of pure crystal. "And what's this war you're talking about?"

The class stopped their efforts to remove Lily's Silencing Charm, most of them with wary expressions.

Lily, for her part, was quite taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"What war?"

"The one against Voldemort and his Followers," said Lily, ignoring her students' discomfort at the taboo name. "I realise Hogwarts is a very sheltering environment, but certainly one of your friends subscribes to the _Daily_ _Prophet_. There are violent attacks at least once a week that—the recent massacre of Ottery St. Catchpole, for example."

"_That_ was a misunderstanding," Estella Selwynn claimed. "The current movement within the wizarding community is a peaceful protest against the infiltration of Muggle culture where it is neither needed nor wanted."

Lily stared. The name "Selwynn" struck a chord in her memory, and Lily grasped around until she remembered—the Selwynns were on the Order's list of suspected Followers. Shouldn't this girl be more aware of what was happening around her, if one or more of her family members belonged in Voldemort's inner circle? Or had her upbringing been so skewed that…

"Miss Selwynn, do you perhaps not grasp the severity of murder?"

The girl scoffed. "Who was murdered? All these claims of death and violence are part of an elaborate scare tactic to further support for the Ministry and detract from the very real concerns of the Followers."

"Well, then it's not working, Estie," Black said loudly, "or have you not noticed the growing dissatisfaction with the Ministry of Magic? Not to mention the Minister's cousin _died_."

"You don't believe that, do you?" Selwynn shot at him.

"Yeah, because I'm not living in a delusion!"

"Thank you, Mr Black, very succinct," said Lily. "Although in this class, please address others with respect. As to you, Miss Selwynn, a bit of research would do you some good."

Selwynn glared at her but said nothing more.

Lily scanned for another hand. "Yes, Mr…"

"Terry Lindley. Yeah, I was just wondering what sort of things you faced as a hit wizard."

"All sorts of things," she said, relieved. "Petty criminals selling Dark magic artefacts, infestations of Dark Creatures of varying classifications, raids, crowd control—I work with a Muggle Squad and our main focus is protecting the non-magical community from various threats."

Potter raised his hand again. "Sounds dangerous."

"Someone has to do it," Lily pointed out. "Yes, Mr Lu—"

"Wait, wait, I've got another question!"

She sighed. "Yes, Mr Potter?"

"Are you single?"

"_That's_ inappropriate," said Lily. "Mr Lupin, go ahead with your question."

"I feel like it's a very valid question, really," Potter plowed ahead. Lupin grimaced at the other boy, which went unheeded. "I mean, we're trying to get to know you with this exercise, after all."

Lily pressed her lips together in imitation of smiling. "I appreciate your…_thoroughness_, but I will not be answering questions of that nature. Mr Lupin?"

"I heard about this…attack, sort of, on New Year's," said Lupin. Her heart skittered. "There were accounts of multiple Inferi which is supposed to be impossible, and I asked Professor Meadowes about it and he said a hit wizard might know what the real story is—"

"There seems to have been an advancement in the making of Inferi," Lily answered quietly. Her thoughts flashed to Dagley's mangled leg for one horrifying second. "Whatever condition that provokes Inferi to attack each other if they are in proximity to one another has apparently been overwritten. I can't tell you the particulars, partly because that's not public information and partly because we just don't know. It's a very recent development and the Ministry has only come into contact with multiple Inferi once. At least, so far as I know."

Several more hands shot up.

Lily spent the rest of the lesson discussing Inferi and the Ministry. She did her best to answer the questions her sixth years had, but the fact that she had few clear answers appeared to disappoint them. For Lily, it only served to drive home just how outmatched the Ministry was against Voldemort's army.

Only two students still remained under her Silencing Spell by the time the bell rang, a Hufflepuff named Marjorie Dunhill (the same girl who'd been the first to arrive with her boyfriend) and that Pettigrew boy whom Black had claimed as his friend. Lily was tempted to wave off the homework she had threatened after seeing Dunhill's and Pettigrew's distress—but no, she had to remain firm lest she lose the entire point of the spell in the first place.

"Bad luck, Pete," she heard Potter saying as the students packed up their things.

"You'll help me, won't you?" Pettigrew begged.

"Ah, but how will you learn?" Black replied with a derisive snort.

"Padfoot—"

"Professor," Potter called over to her with a winning smile, "Peter here needs some help with his homework. Do you do one-on-ones with students?"

Lily pursed her lips. "My office hours are Tuesdays and Thursdays after dinner," she said cautiously. It felt like Potter was leading her over the edge of a cliff, somehow.

"No, but do you do one-on-ones?"

"I'm willing to tutor a student in Charms individually, yes," said Lily.

Potter looked rather put out. She assumed that whatever joke he'd been setting up had been successfully thwarted—and thank Merlin for that.

"James, let's go," urged Lupin quietly. He glanced over at Lily before ducking his head. "I've got Arithmancy next, remember?"

"Ah, alright," Potter said with a glance to Lily of his own. He flung an arm around Black's shoulders. "Say, any of you lot hungry?"

They began to shuffle out of her classroom at a leisurely pace.

"You realise lunch was an hour ago," Lupin said.

"So what?"

Lily leaned back in her chair after every student had gone and heaved a sigh.

That had certainly gone better than her first class, James Potter or Estella Selwynn notwithstanding. That girl…Lily was worried about her. Selwynn had that dangerous, ostrich-like way of looking at the world Lily had never learnt to tolerate. She'd have to watch her tongue toward the girl in class.

But at least they respected her, she reminded herself with a smile. Perhaps she really could do this after all.

* * *

Lily impressed her fourth year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students with an easy Bubblehead Charm, encasing each student in their own private fishbowl until they quieted down and paid heed. Since the Bubblehead Charm was a fifth year spell, Lily didn't offer them the same deal as her N.E.W.T. class and instead removed the Charm for each student whom she called on to answer a question about Switching Spells.

By the time the class let out, all of them had answered a question and Lily couldn't help but pat herself on the back for earning their appreciation _and_ enforcing class participation in one fell swoop.

Her fourth years were still shuffling out of the classroom when the first of her second years arrived, expressions ranging from mildly apprehensive to sheer panic.

She had the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff second years today, something she'd made a note of before the day had even begun. Her interest in the class had everything with Annie, who entered the room with a group of girls and gave Lily a short glance before looking away.

Lily tried not to feel troubled by that. She reminded herself that Annie was likely still embarrassed by last night's fumble in front of the entire school, and that was partly Lily's doing.

In a pleasant turn of events, Lily wasn't forced to use drastic measures to get her second years to pay attention to her. Instead, they sat quietly after the bell rang, and the entire class period ran smoothly.

Lily was so relieved by this cooperation that, by the time the class ended, she fell into her chair behind her desk with a smile and a sigh of relief—until she noticed Annie packing up her things along with her classmates. She just barely managed to restrain herself from jumping back up and demanding the girl stay behind.

She waited for a minute, shuffling papers on her desk in an effort to look busy, her ears straining to catch the voices of her students as if she could somehow pick out Annie's voice from among the throng.

Drawing attention to the girl wouldn't do any good. If Annie hadn't been bombarded with questions after the welcoming feast, she surely would be if the new Charms professor immediately pounced on her after class.

So she waited until half her students had gone before looking up.

"Miss Miyamura," Lily called, keeping her tone light. "A moment, if you please?"

Annie cast a look at the group of girls she had fallen into stride with. They waved her off kindly. Lily overheard one of them promising to save a seat during dinner. She smiled at them before ducking her head and hurrying over to Lily's desk, stopping short just in front.

"Professor?" she murmured with lowered eyes.

"Take a seat," Lily offered.

She couldn't deny that the way Annie was acting had a certain sting. Lily thought the pair of them had struck up a rapport, albeit a brief one under duress, but perhaps she was wrong.

Annie dropped into a seat in one fluid, flinging motion. Lily couldn't see the girl's feet but from the way her legs were swinging, Lily guessed Annie's feet didn't quite touch the floor. She dropped her bag on her lap and curled her fingers into the straps so tightly that Lily could see several of her fingertips whiten.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," said Lily. "I had to leave after…I just didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you."

"I didn't think that."

"Good," she said, unable to say anything else. She grasped for words that wouldn't make Annie draw into herself any further. "That's good. See, my partner was injured…well, it's not important right now."

Merlin forbid she traumatise the girl further.

Lily cleared her throat. "In any case, I've been a bit worried about you."

Annie looked down at her hands and twisted the bag straps into a complicated pattern. "I'm alright," she told Lily in a soft voice.

"Annie," Lily began, and then hesitated. She had decided to speak formally to her students, using last names and "Mr" or "Miss" to highlight the separation between them…but she had known Annie before they had become student and teacher, and she couldn't bring herself to call the girl in front of her "Miss Miyamura" as if she were a distant stranger. That didn't feel right.

"Annie," she said again, "you don't have to pretend everything's fine."

"I'm a Gryffindor," whispered Annie.

It was just like that night, when Lily had offered the memory wipe. Clearly, Annie had her pride.

"Not feeling alright is understandable," Lily told her gently. "Normal, even—everyone gets nightmares after experiencing something like that. Aurors and hit wizards have nightmares all the time."

With this, Annie looked up, her eyes widening. "You…how did you know?"

Lily didn't mention the bags under the girl's eyes. Instead she said, "What happened on New Year's was something most people will never have to go through. They won't experience even a tenth of it."

"I…" Annie dropped her head again. "I keep trying to be brave. That's what being a Gryffindor means, being brave and noble and…I can't stop being scared."

"But you don't need to try to be brave," Lily said. She leaned forward to press her point home. "You're brave enough without trying. Being brave has nothing to do with not being scared, Annie. Not a thing."

"But—"

"I'm scared too," admitted Lily, and now Annie really looked at her for the first time. She realised the girl had been ashamed, saw it in the droop of her shoulders and the hang of her head. "Remember when you first saw me? I was screaming and I nearly lost my head because that idiot Gideon used me as bait. You _did_ see me fall over, didn't you?"

Annie nodded.

"I looked awfully silly, didn't I?"

Though she tried to hide it, Annie let a small smile shine through. "A bit."

Lily smiled back as wide as she could manage. "See? That entire night I was so scared I didn't know what to do with myself. But that's the thing about bravery—it's knowing when you're scared and still doing the right thing, because you know it's more important. You've done the right thing. You were incredibly brave, more so than I'd have been at your age, and now you can let yourself be scared."

"But if I let myself be scared, I don't think I'll ever stop."

"Oh, you won't," she said. There was no point in lying. "Inferi are terrifying. They're Dark Creatures and are forbidden creations for a reason. You're right to be frightened. It'll just get easier. You'll get used to it."

"Are you used to it?" asked Annie.

"Hmm?"

"Are you used to Inferi?" she clarified. "Or…everything, maybe."

Lily leaned back in her chair and put her hands together in a steeple of thought. After a minute she answered, "I'm not as used to it as I ought to be. That's one of the reasons I'm here. But I suppose…I'm used to it enough that I don't freeze up anymore. I used to do that, sometimes. I'd freeze with fear and wouldn't know what to do with myself."

Even Cassie or Dagley hadn't gotten her to confess to this sort of thing.

Somehow, this felt like the most important conversation she'd had in a long time, and the most necessary conversation she'd have for years to come. It mattered that Annie Miyamura had the truth from her, that Lily didn't become another adult serving useless platitudes and ignoring anything unpleasant. The idea that children couldn't handle truths was idiocy; what children couldn't handle was knowing the truth while the world lied to them. Lily knew that well.

"You know, I'm a Muggle-born, too," she said. "And though I had someone to tell me what I am before I got my letter, there were a few years of my life I thought I was…that there was something wrong with me. I think we—Muggle-borns—know what bravery is better than most people, far earlier than most people. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Yes," said Annie, her head bobbing up and down rapidly. "My parents were always worried about me, but they never said anything until my letter—but I knew they were. And I just…well, I had to act normal, didn't I?"

"Exactly."

"And then I got my letter and everything was different, and I was more alone than ever…" Annie bit her lip. "Is that…I don't know…"

"You were alone and you went through it all anyway," Lily finished for her, nodding enthusiastically. "You took it and went on. That's what every scary thing is like, I suppose. You take it as it is, and then you get used to it, and if you're lucky it will stop being scary."

"So I won't always have nightmares."

She sounded so hopeful, her eyes filled with something light and alive, but Lily still couldn't bring herself to lie to that face.

"Nightmares are always going to happen," she said reluctantly. "I can't tell you if or when they'll stop. I'm sorry."

"Oh."

"But I don't want you to think they'll be as bad or as often," Lily went on. "We're made to accept change. If you ask me, I think in a month's time your nightmares about the Inferi will happen less and less."

"A whole month?"

Lily chuckled. "Or, if you like, in _just_ one month."

Annie shook her head. "But what if I want them to stop right now?"

"Well," she mused, "you could always ask Madam Pomfrey for a Dreamless Sleep potion. That's what I take when my nightmares happen. I could tell her to expect you. Honestly, I think the best cure for feeling scared is to talk about it with someone."

"Who do you talk to when you're scared?"

"No one," Lily admitted wryly. "Sometimes I talk to my friend about it"—she tried not to think of Cassie—"but I don't do it nearly as often as I should. I beg of you, don't be like me."

"But you're the bravest person I know."

Well.

She pushed aside the pleased warmth she gained from those words.

"How about this," Lily said. "If I promise to talk more about my nightmares with someone, you'll do the same?"

Annie considered it for a moment and then nodded. "Alright. Could I…could I talk to you?"

"Of course," she said. "Always."

* * *

Perhaps she shouldn't have spoken so candidly of her nightmares to Annie, because one came to visit her that night.

She couldn't move, her leg buried knee-deep in snow that held her in place. And in the grip of the snow she felt a hand even colder, a hand that dragged her down below the surface and she froze. She had no leg, then, and saw it in the grip of an Inferius, dripping from where it had been torn off her. She looked down at where her leg had been and saw only blood on the snow.

The Inferius' mouth opened wide—and she could see the Inferius was once Tim, though now rotted and deformed—and he devoured her leg in one bloody bite. Dagley watched and said "_Now we're the same._" He was gaunt, too, an Inferius in the making. She looked at her hands and saw they were white as death.

Then she fell through the snow as Tim pulled at her. The snow was gone and she was in the sun-soaked streets of London, and her parents were sitting at the table across from her. Her mother's large brimmed hat tilted at a steep angle. Lily reached out and snatched up that hat and then the crowds began screaming. Her mother screamed too. When Lily turned to see the commotion, she saw six Followers in their black garb and skull masks. One had his wand directed on her like a conductor ready to unleash a cacophony. She turned back and lunged for her parents.

Lily woke from that in a cold sweat.

Her room was still dark; though the curtains were closed, no sunlight peeked from under the fabric. She glanced over at her clock which whispered drowsily that it was only a quarter past five, and she ought to still be asleep.

With her heart still racing, Lily knew she wouldn't be able to drift off until it was time for her to begin the day. She flopped onto her back and tugged the covers up to her chin.

"They come from something," she murmured to her ceiling.

It was so obvious, thinking of it now. The Inferi that raided the Muggle town on New Year's Eve, they had been people once. Reanimated corpses.

Lily hadn't even considered it. Well, she _had_ considered it, in that she knew what Inferi _were_ and where they _came from_, but that was an academic understanding. She hadn't let it sink in. The Inferi she had faced were so far from their original selves she had not stopped to think that the creatures she blasted away with magic were once people who talked and breathed and laughed and…

She felt sick.

Her former partner, Gertrude Fellows—what if she'd been reanimated? What if whoever was creating these Inferi on Voldemort's behalf had stolen from Gertrude's grave? Lily didn't think she'd be able to burn her partner's remains. It was sheer luck that no one she'd once known had risen from the grave to menace her that night.

Thinking about this did absolutely no good to anyone, but now that she had started Lily couldn't stop. Every person who had ever died in her life pushed themselves to the front of her mind, their faces twisted in death and reanimation. Familiar features turned alien.

When she pictured her parents as Inferi, Lily tugged the covers over her head and shut her eyes so tightly she saw bursts of light on her eyelids.

"Don't," she urged herself. "Don't, don't, don't."

She took a deep breath and held it until she couldn't any longer, and then released the air from her lungs as slowly as possible. At first her heart picked up, and then it slowed to a steady, peaceful rhythm.

Meg had taught her this one night when they'd both taken a respite in the women's sleeping cots, almost two years ago now. First Muggle Squad had come off a long shift and had only six hours until the next one, and rather than tough it out both women had decided to catch whatever sleep they could. Lily had had one of the worst nightmares of her life and had woken Meg with her screaming.

After managing to calm her down, Meg had proceeded to give Lily a number of techniques to escape the grip of nightmares, and Lily had applied the practices to other forms of self-made fear. This wasn't the first time her mind chose to run through all the terrible possibilities she might face.

Lily took several more long held-in breaths before throwing the covers off her and again stared up at the ceiling.

There was no point lounging about in bed if she wasn't going to sleep, so she stood up and stretched, deciding to take a nice, hot shower and tuck away all these worries. Perhaps then the unpleasant tightness in her stomach would abate.

When she finally felt fresh and warm under the water, the terrors of the night washed away, Lily left the shower and dried herself off thoroughly before wrapping herself in her soft bathrobe.

Lily left the bathroom with still wet hair (to her mirror's dismay) and went to grab her wand on her bedside table. She blew hot air from the tip of it and dried her hair into the gentle waves it always fell into after being washed.

As she finished drying her hair, Lily considered what to do with her time before breakfast. She had nothing pressing, so she decided to indulge herself and watch the sunrise and sat down on the chair in front of her bedroom window.

She looked out the window at the expanse of grounds and put her chin in hand, elbow on the windowsill. The sun was still absent but there was a lightness to the morning sky, a grey anticipation for sunlight.

Lily let her eyes drift. Really, she hadn't _looked_ out her window yet, not the way she should have. This was a real view from a Hogwarts window, a sight not seen in so long she'd forgotten how enchanting the grounds were from this height. To her left, the lake had frosted over at the edges but the water was still churning as, in the distant middle, a giant tentacle splashed the surface. To the right of that were the greenhouses, the glass ceilings foggy with the inside warmth. And to the right of that, far right of her field of vision, the Quidditch pitch stood proudly in the chill with gold hoops high and waiting.

She squinted.

Several someones were tracking through the snow, out of the front doors and to the Quidditch pitch. Ten someones, to be exact. She counted them in confusion. All ten had brooms in hand, and the two at the front walked side by side with a box levitated before them.

"What on earth is the time?" she murmured.

"Six twenty-three," her clock chimed in.

"That's much too early."

Lily continued to watch the students as they set down the box and surrounded it in a huddle. They remained like this for several minutes, during which the sun rose higher and brushed the Quidditch pitch, and Lily could make out the colour of their robes. Scarlet and black, the Gryffindor team's practise gear.

Muggle-borns had something of a hard lot with Quidditch—it was the only real Wizarding sport in the British Isles and therefore all Wizarding children knew the rules and the teams, even if they weren't avid fans. Muggle-borns or Muggle-raised half-bloods came into Hogwarts with knowledge of football and tennis and rugby, and when they inquired about this new sport they were met with incredulity and scorn for not already knowing all about it.

Lily's father had raised her to love football, so she had experienced this phenomenon personally. While all of the magically-raised students were aghast that she didn't know the rules of Quidditch, no one had deigned to explain them to her. By the time Lily had befriended Cassie it was too embarrassing to admit she was still clueless. Oh, she'd figured out the basics, like catching the Snitch was one hundred fifty points and a game ender, and that a Quaffle score amounted to ten points…but the finer details like what constituted a foul or a penalty shot went over her head.

All the same, she found the entire game fascinating.

She kept her eyes on the Gryffindors as they mounted their brooms and took a few laps around the pitch before settling into drills.

Even not knowing much about Quidditch plays, Lily could tell this was a superb team. They flew together in perfect synchronicity, swooping and swerving in complicated patterns without ever being in danger of hitting each other in mid-air. Once or twice Lily spotted a couple of fumbled plays (these were given away by the Quaffle's unexpected descent) but the captain flew in and went over the drill. She assumed it was the captain, anyway.

This went on for some time, until the sun rose past the treetops and shone brightly on the snow and she had to blink constantly to keep watching the practise.

Lily moved from the window when her eyes began to water, closing the curtains halfway. When she glanced at her clock she saw that it was sixteen minutes past seven, which came as a shock to her. It hadn't felt like nearly an hour sitting at the window to her, but then again, she wasn't entirely awake yet.

She stretched her arms up over her head and yawned loudly. "I should get dressed," she said. "Yes. The blue robes."

Even with her spoken decision Lily stood on the spot for several more minutes, lost to her lack of sleep. For all that she'd taken the position at Hogwarts to rest, Lily couldn't seem to get much of it.

That settled it for her, as she chided herself into moving at last. Tonight she would go and get the Dreamless Sleep potion from Madam Pomfrey, no excuses. Her talents had never been in self-care, not even at the best of times, but if she wanted to keep up with her work Lily needed to at least maintain a decent, regular amount of rest each night.

Just as she'd pulled the last of her blue robes into place, Lily heard the sound of a tapping on her window. For one wild moment she imagined it might be one of the Gryffindor players on broom, until reason caught up with her and she shook her head at her silliness. Hundred to one odds it was Angelia, back from roosting in the owlery.

It was an owl, as it turned out, but not Angelia.

Lily stepped back and let Francis fly into her room. He landed atop Angelia's cage and shook his feathers out with dignity before dropping Dagley's letter into her waiting hand.

Her heart stuttered and a shy warmth snuck into her stomach. Just like that, she was awake and anxious to open the envelope. First though, she looked to Francis.

"You can take Angelia's food if you're hungry," she said, "and feel free to rest."

Francis stared her down with austere eyes before lifting his head and turning to look at the wall, as if demonstrating to Lily that he didn't need things like "rest" or "food" while working. Francis was a proud bird, no doubt about that.

Lily sat down on her bed, still unmade, and pried open the envelope flap. Her fingers shook a little as she unfolded the parchment inside.

_Dear Lily,_ it read in blocky printing, and she stupidly smiled at the salutation as if it were special.

"Get a grip, Evans," she commanded herself, and dove back into reading.

_Dear Lily,_

_I hope you haven't been beaten into submission by those little mongrels at school. Knowing you, they've all cowered at your feet, but then again, teenagers are a class of monster all on their own. I daresay children are something quite beyond me, but I wish you the best of luck._

_The leg's fine. I know you've been beating yourself up for that even after I told you not to, so I wanted you to know I can keep the leg and in a few weeks' time it'll be as if nothing ever happened, though I do get to keep a scar along with the leg. I'll show it to you sometime, since it isn't every day one gets to see a scar of bite marks. I've been taken off active duty for the time being, since they don't want someone with a cane in the field._

_I think that's for the best, considering I haven't been assigned a new partner yet. Both Meg and Lucy want me to join up with them for now but you know how they are, I couldn't get in there if I tried. They're far too close. I might join up with Trust and Lennox, if they'll have me._

_Whoever ends up being my partner ought to know they've got large shoes to fill. Of course, you're still my partner, no matter what. I wouldn't trade you in for Alastor Moody if given the chance._

_Alright, I might. But so would you, don't lie._

_You said in the hospital that I might visit you at school. I might be wrong, but for some reason I thought you might have meant, well, something significant. You know me, Evans, I'm not a patient sort, so I hope I might visit you this next weekend, though perhaps in Hogsmeade._

_I know you're not a letter writer, but let me know as soon as possible. I've told Francis to wait for your reply._

_Best wishes,_

_Peter_

Lily bit her lip and held the letter close to her face, staring at Dagley's bold font. He was left-handed so his writing always slanted backward instead of forward, leaning to the left in a haphazard fashion that she'd always enjoyed.

Something significant..._something significant_.

He'd picked up on it—not that she'd tried to hide it, as flustered as she was by the newness of her attraction to him. Dagley knew her well, it seemed.

She released a breathy laugh and fell back on to the bed, holding the letter above her face and reading it again.

He would be alright. His leg wouldn't be damaged permanently, and he wanted to see her soon. About a week from now, eight or nine days to be precise. Just enough time for her to figure out what on earth she was to do with herself.

Lily sat up straight and looked wide-eyed to Francis, who had turned his attention back to her in haughty impatience. She leapt up from the bed and scrambled over to the small space on her writing desk that the bird cage hadn't taken over, and opened the drawer to extract parchment, ink, and a quill.

_Dags_, she wrote hastily, _I'd love to see you next weekend._ Lily paused.

Saturday was an Order meeting at eleven o'clock sharp and she couldn't know how long it would last, having only ever been to one. The members had lives, she mused, and things to do outside of a meeting. It couldn't last more than four hours at the most, and if it did she could always excuse herself early.

_Let's meet at the Three Broomsticks, 4 o'clock, shall we? Bye til then, Lily._

Dagley was right. Lily had never been a letter writer even with the best of intentions, and after a year at the Ministry she'd given up pursuing the talent entirely in favour of just getting her point across and being done with it. This wasn't a secret, but it still warmed Lily that he also knew this part of her and didn't expect more.

She folded the parchment in half as soon as the lettering dried and tapped it with her wand to seal it, her spell intending only Dagley to be able to open it. As partners in the D.M.L.E., they'd established spells that only allowed access for the pair of them over a year ago. It felt almost silly to use such a spell on a simple thing but she liked having something that only belonged to the two of them.

"Here you are, Francis," she said to the bird, and he snatched the parchment up in his beak. Francis flew out the window with a great sweep of his wings and alarming speed, and she watched him go, unable to keep her grin contained.

* * *

An hour later, Lily was still smiling as she entered the Great Hall through the teacher's lounge and took her seat beside Uriah, whose nose was buried in the morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. She remained happily oblivious to all else around her, spooning eggs and potatoes onto her plate, until she happened to glance out to the students and saw many of them reading the news as well—some students with the _Prophet_ had groups around them, huddling to see what was on the page.

She'd been all but floating, but the atmosphere brought her down so harshly that it stung.

Lily didn't get the _Daily Prophet_. Until several days ago, she'd been working in the front lines and had gotten the news before anyone else. Besides, the _Prophet_ had never been exact in its details and she hated reading half-truths and conjecture. It only occurred to her now that, cut off as she was from daily Ministry life, she wouldn't be nearly as up-to-date as usual.

She leaned over to Uriah and whispered, "What's happened?"

Uriah lowered his paper to look at her. His lips were pale on his dark face. "An Inferi attack," he said quietly. "I know the last one was just a rumour, what with the Inferi en masse, but…it's confirmed now. A hit wizard died."

"What?"

Lily reached over and snatched the paper from his hands, scanning the article nervously. Near the bottom of the second column she read…

"William Fortescue in St. Mungo's for treatment," she murmured, and her lips were numbing with horror. "Athena Hostein dead."

The air in the Great Hall had either become colder or thinner because breathing had become a monumental task. Deep, even breaths were out of the question and she began to shake.

"God," she said, thrusting the paper back into his hands. She dropped her head into her palms, fingers pulling through her hair, fighting to herself composed. "Dear Lord."

Will and Athena were members of the Second Muggle Squad. Lily had worked with them several times, and beyond that had taken a liking to Athena and her sweet way of speaking. She was a fighter, all right, but never had a bad word to say about anyone. They were partners, too, Will and Athena. The worked well together.

They _had_ worked well together.

It didn't say in the tiny bit of the article that she'd read, but they must have been ambushed like Meg and Lucy on New Year's. Except for these two, with no one to come to their aide. There was no Dagley to step in this time.

"You know them?" Uriah asked.

Lily pulled a little at the roots of her hair. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I…did." She lifted her head. "What happened?"

"The article says there was an attack on a Muggle neighbourhood last night," he said. "In Anglesey. Some sources are saying there were as many as twenty Inferi, but I think it might be closer to ten."

"Twenty."

He gave her a curious frown. "What makes you think that?"

"That was…" She cleared her throat. "There were eighteen, the first night. I got the full count, after, but I fought off about seven, myself. Not alone, but… Twenty sounds about right."

"Lily," Uriah said slowly, "you mean to tell me you were there? The night of the first attack?"

Lily had planned to keep that to herself—as much as she could hope to, anyway, with Annie free to tell her story to whomever she liked and Egan MacMillan fully aware. But she didn't want Uriah to doubt the Second Muggle Squad, as if he were doing such a thing by lowering the amount of Inferi. She didn't want him to think the Squad wasn't capable.

Rather than confirm her presence on New Year's, Lily stood up and went back into the teacher's lounge, abandoning her eggs and potatoes. She found herself without an appetite, and any happy feelings over Dagley had been pushed out.

Once inside the lounge, she leaned against the door and took in deep, heavy gulps of air.

Athena's husband would be devastated. She hoped the news had come from Ignacia Wallis, the Squad Leader, rather than him waking up to an empty place in their bed and a newspaper article. Wallis would have gone to him, except…with Will in the hospital, she might have stayed with him until he got better.

The _why_ of this mattering was entirely lost on Lily.

What she did know without a doubt was that, if First Muggle Squad had been fully staffed, they'd have gone to respond to the Inferi. With prior experience in dealing with groups of Inferi, with Trust leading them, the First Muggle Squad was the obvious choice to send in. But Lily had let her partner get injured and had gone off to Hogwarts for a teaching sabbatical, and Second Muggle Squad was thrown into a fight for which they weren't prepared.

And she should have felt guilty over that.

She should have, except she only felt a crushing relief that her Squad had not come to harm, and that relief was the thing that made her feel guilty.

She was a terrible person.

"What am I doing here?" Lily demanded of herself, a rush of anger causing her teeth to clench. She slapped the door and the force of her blow smarted on her palm.

For all that she'd wanted to get away from the death and fighting, now that she was isolated she felt rotten. She had responsibilities, people who relied upon her—Lily knew she was a damn good witch. With her skill set, she was one of the few members of the magical community able to call herself law enforcement. What in Merlin's name was she doing here, at a school?

Lily put her hands over her eyes to push back unwanted tears. She dug the heels of her palms inward, and when she saw fireworks behind her eyelids she pressed harder. It didn't make a difference whether or not she cried. She still didn't want to, though. She wouldn't—couldn't—break down here and now.

"Buck up, Evans," she snapped, although quietly.

This was war, and people died in wars. That was just the way of it.

Why _shouldn't_ she be glad that none of her close friends and Squad members had been the ones under attack? Merlin knew she'd had enough people she cared about suffer. She should take the times they didn't as glad tidings, even at the expense of someone else.

The next time she might not be so lucky.

Lily gave herself to the count of ten to pull herself together, and then straightened, dropping her hands to her sides and exhaling slowly.

Dagley was alive. Meg was alive. They'd both been injured, but they made it through. She felt awful for Athena, and for Athena's husband, but she couldn't let herself fall to pieces over it.

Lily turned and put her hand on the doorknob before pausing. As her emotions cleared, she finally managed to breathe easier. She opened the door and went back into the Great Hall, sitting back down next to Uriah as if nothing had happened.

Very calmly, she said, "Please pass the salt," and looked pointedly away from the newspaper by his hand.

* * *

_Hello, once again thanks for your patience. Now that we have CONFIRMED that James is a student (it was so hard for me to be cagey about this, really) please feel free to leave a review detailing your opinion. I don't usually reply to reviews, so if you want to talk to me about it I'll be answering questions on my blog, which I've linked to on my profile page. Hopefully most of you will want to keep reading! Cheers._


	5. Of Wounds and Mendings

**A Matter of Timing**

**Chapter Five  
Of Wounds and Mendings**

The morning of the fourteen of January began with two unappreciated arrivals.

The first was unappreciated solely by Lily's seventh year N.E.W.T. class. Pop quizzes often had that effect on students. It was time—past time, really—to learn just what her exiting class did and did not know about practical applications of charms, and what better way than to challenge them in the first period of the morning? A few of them managed to not shoot her dirty looks as she waved her wand and sent the parchments to their desks.

The second, Lily was certain, disgruntled more than just her.

Along with that morning's edition of _The Daily Prophet_ had been a missive from the Minister for Magic. Minister McKinnon did that from time to time, if he thought the WWN wouldn't have as far of a reach as he needed. Not everyone listened to the wireless at the exact time of an unscheduled address, or even as scheduled one, but written missives had a way of lingering.

And this one would linger, Lily thought grimly, as she looked it over yet again while her students filled out her quiz in silence save for the scratching of quills.

_To the subscriber of this edition of __the_ Daily Prophet_,_

_Recently there has been an increase in home invasions in both wizarding and Muggle homes due to the actions of the group known as the Followers. To keep your home safe from invasion, simply use these guidelines:_

_1\. Do not allow anyone into your home who is not a close friend or relative. For meetings or parties, suggest a neutral location, and be certain to check their identities._

_2\. For close friends and relatives, design a password between each person that cannot be replicated. For example, "what is your favourite animal?" This will prevent imposters who use illegal Polyjuice Potions and transformation spells from successfully gaining access._

_3\. Register your home with the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement to ensure a swift response to any attacks or intruders. Our alarm system is comprehensive and alerts any Hit Wizards in the office day and night to the disturbance in your home._

_4\. Frequently update and renew your warding spells. Many home invasions are the result of deteriorating wards allowing entry. Assign one person in your household to check on the wards at least once a week. The Ministry's standard suggestion for house wards is a twice-a-week renewal, though this may vary depending on the size of one's household._

_5\. Register your fireplace to the Floo Network's security sweeps. The Floo Network works closely with the Ministry of Magic to keep track of unwanted entries and will assist your household in blocking any intruders._

_6\. If you reside in a Muggle neighbourhood and spot a Follower attack on a Muggle home, report it immediately. Any Follower attack on Muggles in your area could lead to an attack on your home as well. Fast response will keep you and your family safe._

_Please remain safe and remain calm if you are ever in the midst of a Follower attack. Always remember to contact the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement if you spot someone suspicious in your area. Caution is the key to a long life!_

_All the best,_

_Cailean McKinnon  
Minister for Magic_

Lily's lip curled in disgust.

She crumpled up the missive and tossed it into the rubbish bin by her desk where it belonged. She also considered setting it on fire, though she decided that might be childish and would send the wrong message to her students. Perhaps later, after they'd left, she'd burn the contents of the entire bin just to get the stupidity out of her classroom.

"Er, Professor?"

She looked up.

The Head Girl, Emmeline Vance, had her quiz in hand and stood in front of Lily's desk with an intrigued tilt to her head.

"All done?" asked Lily, ignoring Vance's peeks toward the rubbish bin. "Excellent. Put it here in the basket, please, Miss Vance."

Vance dropped in her quiz slowly before turning around and returning to her seat. While other students completed their quizzes, she watched Lily the entire time, and Lily did her best not to squirm under the girl's observant eyes.

Little more than a week had passed since Lily's first day teaching, and she was just starting to settle into the Hogwarts lifestyle as a professor. Aside from the initial stress of learning how to teach the experience was turning out to be the sabbatical she'd laughed off. She was finding that she slept better and longer, the bags under her eyes fading as her body settled once again into a natural rhythm of sleep. And with sleep came the appetite she'd long thought lost to her, a real hunger for food rather than her laborious trudge through meals to keep her strength up. Lily looked forward to eating a bit more each day, due in no small part to the excellence of the Hogwarts kitchens.

The students weren't nearly as intimidating as she'd built them up to be in her mind. In small groups, it was no stretch to think she could handle them. The only ones that still gave her some grief were her third-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins who had run roughshod over her that first day. Lily would whittle them down, eventually. First impressions weren't always the end all, be all of the classroom.

Or at least, so she hoped.

By and large the classes she enjoyed teaching most, however, were the N.E.W.T. students. Both of the sixth- and seventh- year classes held only students who wished to pursue their education in Charms. Most employment required only an O.W.L. in Charms, so all the students who hated the subject had been weeded out. The enthusiasm and thirst for knowledge only fed Lily's joy of teaching—though admittedly, she had to contend with Potter and Black in her sixth year class causing minor mischief when they thought they could get away with it.

Though she'd only taught two classes of the seventh-year N.E.W.T. students—three, counting that morning—Lily could easily pick out Emmeline Vance as the brightest witch in her year, surpassing the Head Boy Rhys Dearborn in smarts if not in authoritative presence. Vance was sharp—sharp mind, sharp wit, sharp eyes and sharp line of her mouth. She pulled her brown hair back almost as severely as McGonagall, and her robes were never disheveled. That sharpness lent itself to excellence in precise spellwork like Transfiguration, but Lily suspected Vance had a weakness when it came to the improvisation so often needed in Charms.

But as far as Lily could tell, Vance's best quality was her keen observation. She possessed a peripheral awareness that led some of the younger students to whisper that there were eyes in the back of her head, or that her ears were spelled to pick up sounds from a mile away, and on top of that seemed to grasp human behavior at a depth most people twice her age had yet reach.

There was no question as to why Dumbledore had appointed her Head Girl.

When only two quizzes remained on the desks, the students scribbling furiously as murmurs filled the classroom, Vance cleared her throat and raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Vance?" Lily called on her warily.

"Professor, I was wondering if you saw the Minister's missive in _The Daily Prophet_ this morning?"

Lily raised her eyebrows.

"I did," she said slowly. Vance had definitely seen Lily crumpling it up, so there had to be a reason for broaching the topic so vaguely.

"I was looking at it before class," Vance said, and the entire class quieted. "I only bring it up because on our quiz, there were several questions on warding charms. Do you think the missive was comprehensive in discussing the effectiveness of wards?"

_Ah_, Lily thought, _clever girl_. Vance was unmistakably a Slytherin—by asking Lily about the missive in such a roundabout way, she could remain visibly impartial and still get the answers she wanted.

"Not hardly," Lily answered, and then addressed the class at large. "How many of you read the missive?"

As most of the class raised their hands, the two students who'd been scrambling to finish bolted from their seats and dropped their parchments into Lily's basket.

"Hold on a moment, please, Mr Fawley, Miss Devonshire," she said, and they halted in their paths back to their seats. "For those of you who didn't read it, there is a piece of advice about wards that says to check them once or twice a week and to assign one person in each household to wards. Can anyone tell me why this is a"—she bit her tongue—"ahem, a _bad_ piece of advice?"

What she wanted to call that line about wards, and the entire missive, was probably not considered classroom appropriate.

Rhys Dearborn raised his hand, and Lily nodded at him. "Er, it's too infrequent," he said cautiously. "Once or twice a week isn't nearly enough."

"That's certainly part of it," Lily agreed. "With Apparition in and out of the house, a frequent use of Floo powder, and even just entering and exiting the door, wards that are only refreshed every now and then will deteriorate quickly. Anyone else?"

No one raised their hands for a long moment, until Janine Devonshire (still standing next to Howland Fawley by Lily's desk) timidly spoke up. "Er, if it was just, er, one person, wouldn't they…forget?"

Lily tilted her head. "Human error is always something to take into consideration, of course, but that's not exactly what I'm looking for. Anyone?"

Dead quiet.

The seventh-years were watching her in nervous expectation, all except for Vance, whose eyes only narrowed slightly as she waited for Lily to make her point. To be fair to the students, Lily hadn't expected them to know what she was hinting toward, since it wasn't something she'd ever learned in school.

"Miss Devonshire, Mr Fawley, will you help me with a demonstration?" she asked. Both of them nodded, looking nervous. "Miss Devonshire, please cast a Shield Charm around that rubbish bin."

"Professor?"

Lily tilted her head to the rubbish bin by the door, and with a slight shrug Devonshire lifted her wand and cast a nonverbal Shield that gleamed around the bin.

"Thank you," said Lily, and pointed her wand at the Shield. She sent out two blasting spells that caused Devonshire's Shield Charm to shiver and dissolve. "And now, Mr Fawley, please cast your own Shield." When he did so after a moment's hesitation, Lily gave him a short smile before blasting apart his spell as well, though his took three tries.

"Professor," said Fawley, "did we do something wrong?"

"Not at all," she assured him. "Now, the pair of you—both of you, wands up. On my count of three, both of you cast a Shield Charm around that rubbish bin. You'll need to use a verbal spell to keep in time with each other. Ready?" Though looking confused, both Devonshire and Fawley nodded and readied themselves. "One…two…three!"

"_PROTEGO!_" they both cried, and twin spells shot out of their wands before joining together, ringing the rubbish bin in a sphere of gleaming white and silver.

Lily turned to the class again. "Being a Hit Wizard means that I have acquired an…expertise in dismantling Shield Charms," she told them. "If any one of you had blasted at Miss Devonshire's or Mr Fawley's Shields, you would have needed multiple attempts to break through—anywhere between five and ten, statistically. The head of my Department can break through a single-person Shield Charm with just one spell. Now, please observe."

She raised her wand and threw spell after spell at the rubbish bin, but the Shield Charm only flickered in response. After seventeen tries her arm grew sore and she put her wand down on her desk.

"So, the advice from the Minister—" Rhys Dearborn began.

"Totally useless," scoffed Lily. "Let me tell you something—one person can cast ten different wards, and that person could be Albus Dumbledore, but it won't be nearly as strong as just one or two wards cast by two people together. About a year ago during Christmas, I was stranded in marshland with four of my squad members. With four of us casting one basic Shield Charm together, we kept a wild Manticore at bay for six hours."

Belatedly, Lily realised that sounded a bit like bragging.

"What I mean to say is this," she went on hurriedly. "If you have the opportunity—if you practise at it—casting one spell with another person will be far more powerful than two separate spells. That's not just with wards, but with all forms of magic. How many of you are in Care of Magical Creatures?"

Six hands shot up, and Lily saw Vance had her hand in the air. It came as a pleasant surprise, since she hadn't imagined the Head Girl up to getting her hands dirty.

Vance smiled. "Professor Kettleburn taught us last year that some of the extremely dangerous creatures in Class Four or Five need several wizards working together for their magic to have any effect. He said that sometimes it can take up to six wizards to Stun a dragon. That's the sort of thing you're talking about, isn't it?"

"Absolutely," Lily said. "That's why Aurors always work in sets of four, in case they come across a giant, for example. Mr Fawley, Miss Devonshire, you can lift your Shields now. Thank you for demonstrating."

Fawley and Devonshire both returned to their seats, and Lily prepared to broach the topic of weekend homework when Vance raised her hand again.

"Was there anything else you thought was incomprehensive in the Minister's missive, Professor?"

Lily liked Vance well enough, but she was done being led by the girl for today. "Was there something else you wanted me to address specifically, Miss Vance?"

Emmeline Vance pursed her lips, glancing around the room with those sharp eyes before saying, "The last suggestion…I thought it was in poor taste."

"How so?" she asked.

"Any Follower attack on Muggles in your area could lead to an attack on your home as well. Fast response will keep you and your family safe," Vance quoted with astonishing accuracy. The classroom filled with muted titters and muttering. "It seemed to me that the idea of Muggles being attacked was secondary to the Minister."

Lily had noticed that as well. Her blood had boiled at the words, since it had been that last suggestion that had had her longing to light the rubbish bin on fire.

"Any thoughts on that, class?" she asked the room at large.

"It's condescending," said Kathryn O'Shaunessy, her Irish accent thicker than usual. "Muggles aren't 'n early warning sign, they're people same as you and me. If ya see Muggles being tortured and their houses burned down, you call the Ministry to help them because that's what ya do."

"Keep your family safe first, save Muggles second," replied the boy behind her. Lily squinted and tried to remember his name. She knew he was a Slytherin, because she'd seen him sitting with Vance's group of friends at their House table during meals. "Seems to me that was all the Minister meant."

"And that's the sort of harmful attitude that leads t' an increase in Muggle deaths," O'Shaunessy retorted. "Honestly, Greengrass, what sort of nonsense they teach you in that pureblood house of yours?"

"Miss O'Shaunessy," Lily warned, "Keep your remarks respectful."

"Sorry, Professor, but am I wrong?" she said in defiance.

Lily laced her fingers together. "Mr Greengrass has a point," she said. "Not that I agree with him, necessarily, but consider the number of wizarding households with Muggle prejudice, from mild to as violent as the Followers. By framing it in such a way, the Minister is attempting to reach as many people as possible. The intent, I assume, is to prompt people who would otherwise disregard Muggles in distress to alert the proper authorities."

That didn't mean she had to like it. Lily hated the idea that anyone had to be convinced to assist Muggles, though she knew the stark reality of it. She hated that their Minister—a staunch supporter of Muggle and Muggle-born rights—had seen fit to cater to people who would leave Muggles for dead if given a choice. She understood the reasoning behind his words, alright, but she despised that stupid missive of his all the more for that.

"People shouldn't have to be convinced to do the right thing," O'Shaunessy said, echoing Lily's thoughts.

"No, they shouldn't," agreed Rhys Dearborn, "but that's life. Not everyone's got the same ideals as you, Kathy."

O'Shaunessy muttered something suspiciously like "They bloody well should" and slumped back into her seat, her arms crossed.

"Any other questions about the Minister's missive?" Lily asked. Her gaze lingered on Vance, and the Head Girl remained silent with calculating eyes. Lily wondered if Vance had gotten what she was looking for from Lily, or had decided to hold back and remain somewhat aloof. "No? Well, if you have any more questions, I know Professor Meadowes will have something to say on the subject."

Lily moved onto the homework for the weekend, stifling a grin as her students groaned. Clearly, she was pushing them harder than they had expected from a substitute teacher, but she could only hope to earn their respect instead of their ire by giving them two rolls of parchment on practical theory of the Fidelius Charm. In Lily's opinion, she was assigning a roll too few on the subject.

When the bell rang, Vance held back while her classmates shuffled off to wherever they were headed to next, and approached Lily's desk.

"You don't like the entire missive," Vance said quietly.

"I could write an entire book on why I don't like the entire missive," Lily told her. There was no reason to lie, and she didn't think Emmeline Vance would be interested in spreading gossip. "Hopefully, someone else can do that for me. In the meantime, I'm extremely glad that I'm here at Hogwarts instead of at the Ministry, where the D.M.L.E. is likely getting flooded with useless alarms and summons. The last time Minister McKinnon sent out a missive my entire squad didn't get a full night's sleep for two weeks."

"Why do you think he did it?" asked Vance. "Sent it out, I mean. Why now?"

"Are you asking me because I work at the Ministry?" said Lily. "I don't have much contact with my coworkers at the moment."

"I just…was thinking it might have to do with the recent Inferi attacks," the Head Girl murmured. She glanced to the door for a split second. "He mentioned Muggle neighbourhoods specifically, and that's where the only two attacks that we know of have taken place."

Lily leaned back in her chair. "I see. You are clever, aren't you?"

"Professor?" Vance said, her spine stiffening.

"That's a compliment, I assure you," she said with a wave of her hand. "You could probably count on your fingers how many other students at this school came to that same conclusion. But I don't know if that was what Minister McKinnon had in mind when he wrote that stupid thing."

"I heard a rumour that you were there, the night of the first Inferi attack," said Vance. "What do you think?"

"I think you're on the right track, certainly," Lily mused, "but I can't help but think something else is going on that we haven't quite put our fingers on yet." She looked at Vance, at the way the girl held herself to attention and carried her book bag just so. Vance was just a student who shouldn't have to worry about these things, but far be it from Lily to discourage her from digging, not someone this keen an observer. "If you think of something, let me know. I've been mulling it over for days, myself."

Vance nodded. "Good day, Professor Evans."

"Good day, Miss Vance. Have a nice weekend."

Lily tapped her fingers against her lips as she watched Vance leave. Perhaps the Order meeting the next morning could shed some light on the Minister's intentions.

* * *

"So, you hold the tip of your wand to the master test, and then…" Uriah lightly tapped his wand twice against one of the quizzes. "_O__stendus_."

Lily tilted her head. "You're sure it's alright to just…"

"Listen, you don't want to spend that sort of time grading tests," he told her. "Save the detailed review for essays. Tests are fairly straightforward; either you've got it right or you haven't. Essays have all sorts of criteria to meet up with. Speaking of, need any help with that yet?"

"No," she said. "I don't know, I really don't feel comfortable just using a spell to wave off grading tests."

They were sitting in Lily's office, Lily on one side of her desk and Uriah on the other. A tea tray sat on the far side of the desk, the two cups of earl grey as hot now as they were an hour ago thanks to some house-elf magic. Uriah had a plate of thin chocolate-covered biscuits beside him and was making his way through one row of them, barely noticing the pile of crumbs on the desktop. Lily noticed, and tried not to grimace. Uriah was helping her, after all—it wouldn't do to show her annoyance at bad habits.

"You'll be even less comfortable if you don't use a spell," he said. "I learned this from the headmaster of Yamuna Prep, you know. It's not exactly an illicit spell. Bet you ten galleons McGonagall uses it for her tests as well."

"I'd take that bet," Lily told him. "I've seen McGonagall grading tests with my own two eyes."

"Mm-hmm? And were those final exams, by any chance?"

"Yes," she said, and narrowed her eyes. "What of it?"

"The one exception," Uriah said, nodding in triumph.

"That doesn't prove anything," she argued, but he waved her off.

"Now, really, do you want to make extra work for yourself? Knowing that you're teaching seven years of students? Knowing that your nights will be so filled already that you'll barely have time to breathe?"

Over the past two weeks, Lily had discovered her colleague-turned-compatriot had the annoying habit of being right. Rather than listen to the niggling sense in the back of mind insisting this was cheating—magic made her think that way even after all these years, sometimes—she tossed Uriah a harmless sneer and dropped her wand onto the desk.

"Right," she said. "It's been a long week."

To illustrate her point, Lily raised her arms over her head and stretched, a little yawn escaping her.

"Biscuit?" Uriah offered, innocently raising the second-to-last of his treats in his hand like an offering.

Lily narrowed her eyes and swatted at him. "Get that away."

"Such an angry person."

"Not so."

Uriah chuckled. "Listen, give it a month and you'll be thanking me on hands and knees for teaching you this," he said.

Lily surrendered with a sigh. "_Ostendus?_"

"_Ostendus_."

"Hmm."

Lily picked up her wand and witness in mixed reluctance and relief as all the pop quizzes she'd given her seventh years shone with correction marks one by one. It took only a couple of minutes to finish all of them, and by the end she'd managed to turn it into a nonverbal spell.

Beside her, Uriah was finishing the last chocolate-covered biscuit and nodding in approval. "You picked that up nicely."

"I had a good teacher," she deadpanned.

His eyes narrowed in mock displeasure. "I feel I'm being played with here. What an ungrateful person you are."

"Angry and ungrateful? Merlin, you seem to find a lot of fault in me."

Uriah chortled. "Ah…is it too much? I'm sorry. I tend to get a bit aggressive with my humour among friends."

"I'm used to it," Lily told him, thinking briefly about Cassie's own aggressive humour.

Tomorrow loomed overhead—a deadline she'd all but forgotten about. Lily had been pushing back when it came to thinking about Cassie but she could do that no longer once they were both at the Order meeting. She would have to find some way to get past the lies Cassie and the twins had told her—yet every time she thought about it, all that ran through her mind were questions. How long had it been since they'd joined the Order? Who out of the three had joined first? Who'd lied the longest? What stories had Lily been fed to cover up an Order meeting or mission?

Her stomach rolled and Lily was glad she hadn't touched Uriah's offered biscuits because they would have likely ended up on the floor in a pile of sick.

Thinking about this shouldn't have affected her so viscerally. It hadn't during the Order meeting two weeks past when she'd first discovered all this, so why was she so upset now?

Lily bit her lip and forced herself to think of what came after the meeting tomorrow.

Dagley had written back to confirm their meet up at the Three Broomsticks, and while Lily was excited—she'd all but vibrated the night she received his return letter—another knot of worry had since taken up residence next to the knot devoted to Cassie and the Prewetts, and this knot presented itself in shaking nerves.

The night Dagley had been injured…the night she'd left him alone and _let_ him get injured (she couldn't let herself forget that) her entire world had done a wild spin, and when it had stopped spinning she had come to find that losing Dagley was an unthinkable reality. Lily had known that he was important to her for a while. Their bond had cemented not long after they'd been assigned as partners, despite the ten-year age gap and differing personalities. This was another level of importance.

She'd come to find that she wanted to kiss him, too, though that feeling hadn't resurfaced yet. She hadn't seen him since that night so she couldn't be certain whether or not that had to do with the distance or if it was a one-time occurrence, and she wanted to be sure before confirming anything.

It felt like a lifetime ago with all the changes that had occurred, but it had really just been a month since she'd kicked Tim out of her flat.

Lily had been with Tim for two years prior to that night, and she had loved him. She'd considered marrying him, she loved him that much, though they'd fought more and more as the relationship went on. Then he'd gone and said he wouldn't mind shagging Mary Donovan and broke everything between them, including her heart. She had cut him out of her life and forced her thoughts elsewhere but all that meant was Lily needed to sort out what Tim meant to her at this point. She wasn't sure whether or not she was still in love with the arsehole.

That was the sort of thing she had to consider before settling things with Dagley. Even if her feelings for her partner were genuine, if she still loved Tim that wouldn't be fair to anyone.

Lily had let a lot of things pile up in the corners of her mind and it was starting to become a problem.

"You still in there?"

She wrenched her head around and nearly knocked her nose into Uriah's palm.

"Hullo," he said, jerking his hand back hastily. "You went somewhere else. I thought you might have been copying Professor Binns."

Lily chuckled despite the fog in her head. "Still here. Not dead. Not yet, anyway."

"Anything you need to talk about?"

"Not unless you're up for relationship advice," she joked, but he looked serious. "Really, it's nothing."

"Lily, I've got nothing on for the rest of the night, and tomorrow I'm off to visit my Amma," he told her, crossing his arms behind his head as a self-made pillow. "I'm in for very little entertainment this weekend so you might as well give me something to mull over. I promise I don't give bad advice, out of practise though I might be."

"How out of practise?"

Uriah blew out a loud breath of air as he considered. "Hmm… Three years, almost."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Three?"

"It's hard to find someone to date when you're a professor," he defended himself, though he was at ease. "When you're a Curse Breaker at Gringotts everyone wants to get on with you. It's a dangerous job and that makes you look exciting and all. Being a professor doesn't do the trick after that."

She laughed softly. "Perhaps not. Alright, here it is: I broke up with my boyfriend not too long ago."

"My apologies."

"No, it was very much a good thing," she told him. "If you met him, you'd understand. My best friend kept telling me to drop him for two years, and usually she stops telling me that after a few months."

Uriah nodded slowly, silent approval written on his face. "So what's the trouble, then, if you dropped him?"

"What's your opinion on dating co workers?"

"No good," he said immediately. "It's messy. I've never seen it work out even once, so I don't do it myself."

She sighed and sank back into her chair. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"Oh? Sorry, were you about to ask me on a date?"

Lily scrunched up her face and he chuckled. "It's my partner at the Ministry," she said once he'd quieted. "Something happened and I…"

Finishing that sentence required some understanding of exactly _what_ she was feeling, and that was the very thing she was struggling to understand. It was maddening and Lily fought to keep her hands down and not tugging on her hair. Instead she cracked her knuckles to release a bit of her frustration.

Uriah tapped his chin. "Well," he began thoughtfully, "I'm always of the opinion—and this is in total contradiction to what I just said, so make of that what you will—that whatever you do, it should always be what will make you happy, no matter to anyone else. I've nearly died enough times to dislike waffling around."

"But what if I don't know what will make me happy?"

_What if I don't know how to _be_ happy?_

That was the thing that nearly came out of Lily's mouth, and that shocked her more than a little. She'd never thought of herself as unhappy, but once that thought surfaced without warning, she was forced to realise that she wasn't unhappy, but she wasn't happy either.

"If you think it _could_ make you happy, then that's fine," Uriah said, pulling her away from her revelation. "If you make the wrong choice, you can always change your mind."

"I don't want to hurt anyone," she said. "Dagley—my partner—he asked me out a few weeks ago and I've just only begun to think…but I don't want to hurt him. He's dear to me."

He shrugged, a tricky motion since his arms were still crossed behind his head. "Like I said, messy." He caught Lily's expression (one of exasperation) and shrugged again. "It comes down to whether you're more interested in making yourself happy or keeping everything stuck in place so no one is bothered."

"That's what I'm unsure of," she murmured.

"Perhaps," he suggested, a slight smile on his lips, "these are the sorts of things you should be talking to your partner about. No one said you've got to figure this out on your own."

"Who says I'm on my own?" Lily said. "I've got you."

"Merlin save me," he said, and she tossed a quill at him.

It fluttered in the air and landed on his shirt, a tiny ink stain blossoming from the tip.

* * *

Lily had thought the Order meeting would take place in Mrs Hoffen's secret portrait room again, but she was surprised to hear from McGonagall as she followed her along the path to Hogsmeade the next morning that they were bound for another location. A location she hadn't expected a secret organisation would meet, at that.

"The Three Broomsticks?" she repeated, nearly tripping over her own feet in the slushing snow.

"That's correct," said McGonagall. She walked along the path as though all the elements were not conspiring against them, and Lily wondered how she did it with mild envy. "We can't meet up at Carmillia's home that often. Otherwise, suspicion might fall upon her and we wish to keep her out of danger as much as possible."

"But everyone goes to the Three Broomsticks," said Lily.

"It won't be terribly busy at eleven o'clock in the morning on a Saturday," McGonagall pointed out, "especially a Saturday that does not fall on a Hogsmeade weekend for the students. The crowd will be just enough that we can all slip in and appear not to be connected to each other, and that's important. If we're all associated—"

"I understand that," she argued, and slid nearly a foot on the slickness underfoot. "But everyone goes to the Three Broomsticks. Wouldn't we be more likely spotted there? I should think the Hog's Head—"

"No one goes into the Hog's Head who isn't up to shady business," said the other woman. She sounded contemptuous, which didn't catch Lily by surprise in the slightest. The proper Minerva McGonagall would never willingly step one foot into the cesspool that was the Hog's Head. "If we meet there, we might as well be advertising our intentions. Although on occasion we do go in anyway."

It sounded as if McGonagall spent a good amount of her time protesting the use of the Hog's Head to Lily, but she didn't say anything else on the subject as they entered the town.

A good Samaritan had taken the time to siphon the slush off High Street, and Lily had a much easier time moving. She noted in annoyance that during the walk some of the snow had impossibly gotten into her boots and damped her socks, which squelched and squished between her toes. She sped up just a little, bearing through the agitation in her haste to get to the pub and dry her feet off.

McGonagall was still ahead of her, however, and tugged the door open for Lily.

A wave of hot air and noise (and the smell of mulled mead) blasted out from the doorway and Lily hesitated for the briefest of moments before shuffling in. She took in a deep breath and relaxed as McGonagall came in behind her and closed the door, and the warm air touched her nose and fingertips in such a way that told Lily she'd been freezing, though she hadn't noticed it until just then.

"Minerva!"

That voice was familiar.

Lily craned her neck and searched the pub for the source of that call and saw a dark-skinned arm waving across the room, though the person it belonged to was hidden behind the mass of bodies.

_It won't be terribly busy_, McGonagall had said.

Well, she was right that it wasn't as busy as a Hogsmeade weekend for the school, but it was crowded enough that Lily's ears ached ever so slightly at the clamour and she had to use all her strength to push through the crowd to that waving arm.

When they drew closer, she saw Isabella Arram sitting at the bar and chatting with the busty young barmaid who couldn't be more than twenty.

"Good morning," she said happily to Lily and McGonagall. "Fancy a drink? Nothing with a serious kick to it, of course, but if you'd like a Butterbeer I'll cover it."

"That would be lovely," said McGonagall. Lily nodded in agreement.

Isabella smiled at Lily and patted the empty stool next to her. "We've got time," she told Lily. "Minerva has to go ahead to set up, but why don't you and I have a chat while we wait?"

Lily winced. "I would love to," she said regretfully, "but I've got wet socks that need drying. I'm so sorry."

"Pah," said Isabella, waving at her. "Go on then, I'll meet you in a moment."

"A moment," she agreed, and followed McGonagall past the bar and up the staircase.

Apart from one Isla McKinnon, the room McGonagall led her into was empty and almost devoid of chairs. Isla sat in one of the two chairs present and barely looked up as they entered. Her legs and arms were crossed and she had a somewhat sour, bored twist to her lips.

"You're early," said McGonagall, sounding a bit cross. Lily suspected the reason had everything to do with someone beating Minerva in punctuality.

"Ah, yeah," Isla shrugged and looked at her knees. "Had a bit of a free day. Need any help?"

"Table. And water."

Lily took the solo empty chair and shucked off her boots, groaning as she felt her socks hit the air and it became clear just how soaked her feet had gotten. If she ever got some spare time, she thought irritably, she'd develop a Charm for socks that never got wet, or perhaps shoes that never let water in.

She spent the next five or so minutes blowing warm air from the tip of her wand on her feet and thinking of spell configurations. It was a habit of hers, long ago instilled by Flitwick during discussions of Charms creation, that often left Lily oblivious to her surroundings. When she at last slipped her shoes back on and looked up, she was startled to see that no less than ten people had entered the meeting room—one of them Cassie, who was hovering by Eddie Bones and watching Lily.

Her breath caught and she looked away from Cassie, a ducking glance to her left that had her suddenly face-to-face with a man crouched beside her. His hair was a dark brown that went oddly (but not unappealingly) with his shaggy auburn beard. He couldn't have been much older than her.

"Hello," he said, gray eyes twinkling. "I don't think we've met."

"No," she said, leaning back. "We haven't. And you're too close."

"Am I?"

"Oh, fuck off, you flirt," someone shouted—Isla, Lily realised, because the young woman was storming towards them. "Knock that off, yeah?"

Isla forcibly grabbed the bearded man's collar and yanked him to his feet with a surprising strength belied by her slender arms.

"'Lo, Isa," he said lightly, over-pronouncing the "s" in Isla's name with casual familiarity.

"Sorry about this one," Isla said to Lily. "He's harmless, honestly. Just annoying. I'll keep him out of your hair."

Lily forced a smile on her face. "Thanks."

Isla dragged the auburn-bearded man over to a group of three comprised of Sturgis Podmore and a couple speaking in (if Lily wasn't mistaken) heavy Italian accents. Lily vaguely remembered someone mentioning a couple in Italy at the last meeting but couldn't recall the name given to them.

Cassie was still watching her.

With a sigh, Lily stood and grabbed the back of her chair. She dragged it over to the newly conjured table and set herself down beside Isabella, who was absorbed in a roll of parchment and only nodded to Lily when she sat down.

At some point today, Lily would have to force herself to speak with Cassie. She knew that. She'd spent a good amount of time agonising over it this morning, a tight coil of nerves in her belly that made it impossible to eat a full breakfast.

Dumbledore swept into the room ten minutes later, and the light chatter died down. Lily watched as he added his own concealment charms to the myriad already placed upon the room and wondered if everyone had decided upon their own independently, or if certain people were assigned certain charms. She hoped that was the case—mismatched spells rarely had a decent outcome.

"Are we all here?" he asked the room.

"No," Cassie reported immediately. "The twins are in a meeting they couldn't get out of, and I'm guessing that's where Moody is as well. I'm only here because my meeting comes later today."

"A shame," said Dumbledore.

The auburn-bearded man cleared his throat loudly. "I'm here," he said, giving Lily another sideways glance.

"Indeed you are," Dumbledore remarked dryly. "Thank you, Allan. Lily, this is Allan Dale who, you may remember, is currently looking for a wife. Allan, this is Lily Evans. She is substituting for Flitwick and otherwise works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a Hit Wizard on a Muggle Squad."

"_First_ Muggle Squad," Cassie muttered, loud enough for most of the room to hear.

"And Lily, these are Leonardo and Hypatia Loren," Dumbledore went on as if Cassie had said nothing, though his beard twitched upward a little. He gestured toward the Italian couple to the right of the door. "They live in Switzerland but have joined the Order in an effort to provide international relief."

Lily wanted to ask what the Lorens did that could possibly account for their trips back and forth to England, but didn't feel confident enough to speak up.

"The next meeting will be in Hagrid's cabin," he said calmly once he'd finished his bite of scone. "Please pass that along to those who are not here."

Cassie nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you," said Dumbledore. "I call this meeting to order."

In a fit of silliness, Lily wondered if Dumbledore had meant the pun. She held in her fit of giggles with every inch of self-control she could muster up.

It was Laura Grahame who spoke first. "The Minister is deeply concerned about the two mass Inferi attacks."

"As he should be," said Cassie.

"As he should be," Laura agreed in a placating tone that showed she didn't care for Cassie. Lily bristled at that tone, though she liked Laura. "However, now that there have been two attacks the Minister is afraid of the attacks becoming more frequent and more…providing more casualties. He's begun his own investigation into the matter, of which I have taken part, but he's no closer to finding the answer than he was before the second attack last week. Needless to say, we know a little more than he does."

Isabella was frowning, Lily noticed. "And just how do you plan on providing him the information I brought to the Order?"

Laura clicked her nails on the table, staring Isabella down.

"We need to find a good excuse, that's all," Eddie told them both. "Come now, Laura isn't the only one who could bring him the information. Tell the Minister to invite Bert into the investigation and then Bert can say his sources in the American wizarding government provided him with useful information about their own zombies and Inferi."

"How on earth could I possibly make that sound natural?" Laura demanded. "Coming from me—"

"I could do it instead," said Eddie, "but you're closer to him. Perhaps tell him that you remember hearing a story about zombies from the colonies and hint that Bert could be useful."

Everyone looked at Humbert McKinnon, who had remained silent.

Lily failed to be inspired by this man. She'd not given him much thought during her initial Order meeting, except for remembering his name and face. She also was fairly certain (all but assured by Laura and Eddie's words) that Humbert McKinnon was the Head of International Cooperation, but Lily knew as well as any Ministry employee that other countries weren't willing to get involved in Britain's war.

At last Humbert said, "Begging your pardon, but if anyone can get information into my brother's ear, it'll be his favourite niece." He jerked his chin toward Isla, and the focus of the room shifted.

"You want me to go to Stirling?"

Lily might have been imagining it, but she thought she heard a hardness under Isla's casual tone, and her shoulders were possibly too relaxed. What clued her in further that this was a conversation of many layers were the shoulders that _did_ stiffen—Marlene, Humbert, and for some reason Allan Dale.

"Or you could just come by the Ministry to see him," said Eddie quietly. Apparently he knew whatever it was that caused this chill in the air. "No need to go out of your way."

"Cailean's always happy to see you," Humbert added. "No need to make up an excuse."

"So that is what we'll do," said McGonagall. Her tone brooked no argument, though Isla squirmed in her chair a little. "Staying on topic—Isabella, have you made any progress?"

Isabella sighed loudly. "Not yet. Ask me next meeting. How about you, Doc?"

Caradoc Dearborn cleared his throat. "It's too early to establish any pattern," he said. "I saw a small movement in both the Malfoy and Lestrange vaults but that was only the day before the attack, and I Tracked enough of the galleons to see them end up in shops."

"How are the Lestranges getting into Gringotts?" Cassie demanded. "The goblins all know that access to the Lestrange vault is restricted, we've checked with them a dozen times!"

"Don't blame the goblins," he said, sighing. "Like as not, they went to a different bank. The Paris Gringotts is closest but I'm certain they came by way of Oslo. Norway has taken a non-interference policy for the war and the goblins there are even less likely to work with the wizarding government than our own lot. I doubt the Oslo branch's goblins even know about the war."

The was a confused silence, and then Diggle asked, "How can the Lestranges get to their vault all the way from Norway?"

Lily could have kissed him for saying it. She didn't want to come off as any more clueless than she had to.

Doc heaved another sigh. "The vaults under Gringotts are all interconnected," he said. "Anywhere in the world you go. It's all accessible if you've got a goblin with you—it's goblin magic, see. Very different from ours."

"Well, shit," Allan Dale said, breaking a long moment of silence.

"So for now, we wait," said Marlene calmly. "Unfortunate though it may be, we need another attack to understand the Inferi strategy."

Dumbledore nodded and moved the subject onto another outstanding mission, directing his questions toward Sturgis Podmore.

Just as with the meeting before, the various missions addressed went right over Lily's head. She was starting to get a grasp on the bigger picture but the details eluded her. She knew that Mungdungus Fletcher saw less black market trade these days at the same time Diggle saw a decrease in Quidditch attendance and illegal trading at matches and knew the two were connected—though exactly _how_ remained a mystery. Twice Isabella leaned over to Lily and explained the basics of an ongoing mission, obviously reading the confusion on Lily's face.

It wasn't until Cassie cleared her throat and said, "I think Selwynn on Level 1 is a Follower," that Lily could put a face to the name at hand.

Lysander Selwynn, a glorified paper pusher who'd gotten his Ministry job through money and connections, had been working on Level 1 since before Lily had started at the Ministry. He was quiet, not overtly magically talented—and had betrayed himself as a Follower sympathizer on one memorable occasion. Regardless, nothing about him had struck Lily as aggressive. He'd been polite to her, for example, showing no signs of pureblood mania or prejudice. Selwynn didn't seem the type to actively join anything.

She wondered what his relation to Estella Selwynn was.

"That one?" Eddie shook his head. "Ah, I don't think so. He's too mild."

"I spoke with my mum recently," said Cassie, "and she said Selwynn's been in touch with his family quite a bit. Said it was a good thing," she added with a huff.

Lily could hear the unspoken "idiot woman" that Cassie was barely holding back. She'd heard that scornful epithet a thousand times the last ten years.

"That doesn't mean he's a Follower," Laura said.

"That doesn't mean he isn't, either."

"All the proof you have is hearsay from your mother."

"Oy," snapped Cassie, "I don't ever talk to my mother, or listen to her, so when I say I heard something from her, I mean it's something worth hearing."

It was hard not to jump in. Lily balled her hands into fists as she watched a dismissive smile pass across Laura's face and saw Cassie's irritation. It seemed the dislike went both ways. To be fair to Laura, most people didn't like Cassie, but…all the same, Cassie was her best friend and Lily often struggled to like people who disliked her friends.

"Funny you mention that," Diggle broke in lightheartedly. "See, I saw Selwynn—Lysander Selwynn, I think is who you mean—the other day and I could've sworn the bloke he was chatting up was Thorfin Rowle. Mind you, he was wearing a hood, but Rowle's hard to mistake. He's a big man. Got a certain build to him. I didn't even remember it until just now."

"If you want a spy in the Ministry who won't rouse suspicion, who better than a mousy, useless office clerk?" Isla said. "He's sort of a wash out, compared to his family."

That, Lily could agree with. Lysander Selwynn had none of Estella's cold beauty, no sharp planes nor edges to his face. Physically, he was unremarkable.

"If you say so," Laura said through a clenched smile.

"Why don't you keep an eye on him, Laura?" Marlene suggested. "You oversee him the most, in your capacity as my cousin's aide. Furthermore, you don't suspect him to be a Follower, so you are best suited to observe him without bias."

Laura crossed her arms, and then uncrossed them. "If that is what the Order requires..." She looked to Dumbledore.

"We can't afford otherwise," said Eddie.

"Agreed," Dumbledore said.

"Very well."

"It's past time for our meeting to be over," he continued. "You all have your assignments. We will meet again in ten days."

* * *

Lily walked to Cassie as soon as the meeting ended, though she moved slowly and reluctantly.

Cassie was flipping through several rolls of parchment, apparently memorizing the contents. Lily watched as Cassie gave one sheet a good long squint and then Vanished it. Then she looked up at Lily and froze.

"Er…" Lily fidgeted. "So, er, is Laura always like that?"

Cassie pursed her lips. "What, a bitch?"

"Well…yes."

"Ah…" Cassie Vanished the rest of the scrolls and gave a shrug. "She's always been a bitch, I think. But she's a damn good informant."

"I thought she was out of line. You know, with the way she talked to you."

"I've probably done the same to her. Not that I'd remember it. It doesn't bother me, Lily."

Lily hesitated, and then plopped into the seat next to Cassie with a deep exhale. "I…I don't like when people talk to you like that."

"That's stupid."

"Yeah."

"…Thanks, though."

"Mm."

Cassie ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. "Are you still cross with me?"

This was the fragile Cassie that rarely came out—the version of Cassie that had spent a week going mad because her boyfriend was missing on a dangerous mission, and who'd been so nervous approaching Lily after that first shocking Order meeting. It occurred to Lily that she'd seen an awful lot of this Cassie in the past month, and that didn't sit well with her.

"…Probably."

"Probably?"

"To be perfectly honest," Lily said, "I still feel…I dunno, wretched, that I missed this huge part of your life, you know, and that you didn't tell me—I know you couldn't, but… But besides all that, I suppose I'm still on your side if some bitch decides to come after you. Or so it would seem."

"Listen," said Cassie, "I spent two bloody years trying to convince these louts that you'd be perfect for them, but they were all squinty-eyed about you dating Tim, as if you couldn't be a fucking professional and separate your secret society life from your love life."

"So that's why you kept telling me to drop Tim."

Cassie scrunched up her nose. "Ugh. No, I kept telling you to drop Tim because he's easily the most annoying and patronising boyfriend you've ever picked up, and somehow the one that lasted the longest. Honestly, did you _like_ getting talked to like a pet dog? I didn't like it, and I only had to listen to him when you forced me along. It might've helped move things along here, yes, but he was better left in a rubbish bin."

"Mm."

"Don't tell me you've not realised that yet?"

"No, I have," said Lily. "I'm just wondering why they thought Tim would be a problem when both Laura Graham and Eddie Bones have been here for a least a year. It's got to have been at least a year for Laura, and longer for Eddie. Laura last meeting said she'd once been watching Gregory Brevin for the Order and he was fired almost a year ago now for undisputed connections to the Followers. So what does dating Tim have to do with anything?"

"That's what I asked. Your former boyfriend's a stickler for rules, apparently, and he's keen on ratting people out. _Logic_ insists that you are completely identical to whomever you're dating."

Lily snorted. "Tell me—have you become a sweet caretaker since dating Fab?"

"Disgusting," spat Cassie, and Lily laughed.

There was still an awkward feeling in her chest that had her lungs all twisted up, but…this felt better. This felt closer to normal.

"Right, so," she said, "now I know not to piss Laura off, who else do I need to watch out for?"

It was only for a moment, but a flash of genuine, vulnerable gratitude came across Cassie's face before she schooled her features into a more normal expression, which landed somewhere between annoyance and apathy.

"Saw that idiot Allan Dale trying to chat you up earlier," Cassie started with a huff. "He's…well, he really is harmless, believe it or not. Bit of a slag—his mum wants to make an honest man of him so, naturally, he shops around for girls just to spite her. I _have_ heard he's good for a tumble. Since I can't go for it, you ought to for my sake."

"_No_," said Lily. The thought of sex had been spoiled for her by Tim's comments about Mary Donovan. At least for the time being, she hoped.

"No? Oh, well. You know, though, he's actually a McKinnon on his mum's side. All the McKinnons are decent. Isla's the one who pulled him away, if you remember. She's got a mouth that won't stop flapping and she can be a right spoiled bitch. I like her."

Lily pinched her lips together to keep from smiling. "Of course you do."

"Eddie Bones is alright," Cassie went on. "Diggle's a fun bloke but he doesn't exactly have a decent head on his shoulders. Complete idiot. Stay away from Dung. You'll lose all your money to him if you're not careful. Podmore's fucking boring but he's not bad. You seem to like Arram…she's a decent potioneer but so bloody proper. I suppose if you like that sort of thing it's alright, but honestly, she just annoys me. Doc—Caradoc—has got all sorts of Gringotts stories and he'll tell them to you if you ask. I could listen to them forever, really. Pity he's married."

"Pity you're in love with someone else," Lily added with raised eyebrows.

Her friend rolled her eyes. "Oh, let me have my fantasies, Evans. Anyway…hmm. The Lorens are nice. They don't speak a lot. I s'pose that's because they're not too good with English, but you know how I feel about people who don't talk much, of course. And same with Bert—Humbert, I mean. Awfully quiet bloke."

"For a person who values silence so much you're certainly filling it up."

"Shut up, you."

"How's Margot?" Lily asked to change the subject.

Cassie tapped a spot behind her ear. "Dating that old man," she grumbled. "We had lunch last week—only because she wanted to give me those stupid robes of hers, mind you, and nothing else—and she was going on and on about her charming and handsome Robert, how galant older men are and all that rubbish. He should know better than to date someone as young as her."

"So you do have lunch with her when I'm not around," Lily teased.

"I knew you'd be annoying about that. Here now, you can't force us to be close friends when we're not."

Lily knew better than to listen to Cassie about Margot.

Ever since she had befriended the young, bright, and endlessly cheerful Margot Keller three years past, Cassie had spent a large amount of her time being possessive of Lily's friendship—which Lily tolerated only because she knew that, when Lily was gone and it was the two women alone, they got along just fine. Cassie never admitted it, naturally, but Margot would go on and on about Cassie's latest visit to her shop or the time they had lunch together when Cassie had a spare afternoon. Lily didn't quite understand why Cassie kept up the ruse of disliking the younger woman, but she'd long ago stopped letting it bother her.

"Robert Bellman again," Lily said, instead of needling Cassie further. "Honestly. I want to tell her to get away from him but when I started to tell her that just after Christmas she got all huffy about it."

"I said the same," Cassie told her. "She's such a brat."

"He's far too old for her."

"Isn't he, though? Ugh, it just makes me cringe whenever I think about it. I know Fabian and I are some years apart but not by _that_ much. If I were her age it'd be no good, I think."

Lily nodded. "I know she's all about being a modern woman and I don't want to get in the way of that, of course, that's not my place, but I'm worried."

"Exactly." Cassie paused. "I mean, _I'm_ not worried. Not about her. But that sort of situation is worrisome."

"Of course."

"It's not like I get on with her."

"Obviously." Lily eyed Cassie out of the corner of her eye. "But if you did, that wouldn't be a bad thing."

"Stop that."

"Alright." She sighed gently. "Listen, what are you doing on the thirtieth?"

"Your birthday?" Cassie rubbed a finger behind her ear. "I don't think I'm doing anything important. Yet."

Lily smiled.

* * *

Lily met Dagley downstairs in the pub, though she came in through the front door.

She'd Apparated behind Zonko's and walked the short distance to the Three Broomsticks to preserve the illusion that she'd only just arrived. The weather had shifted since she'd been inside. This morning it had been sunny and warm enough that the snow was starting to melt, but clouds had gathered since then and there was scarcely any sunlight peeking out. The wind was stronger too, and Lily suspected that snowfall was soon to come. That was a relief—the fresh snow would cover up the slush she'd had to wade through on the path from the school.

She opened the door to the pub once again, her cheeks and nose stinging a little from the cold, and headed straight to Dagley.

"Hi!" she said brightly to catch his attention.

Dagley looked up at her and his entire face brightened. "Evans," he said warmly. "Good to see you."

"You too, Dags," she said. "Nice to see you on your feet. Sort of."

He laughed and patted the cane next to him jovially.

Lily didn't know if she ought to hug Dagley. She'd never hugged him before but this moment had a difference to it that was impossible to ignore. To compromise, she leaned down and planted a quick kiss on his cheek before sliding across from him into the booth. When she looked at him, Dagley's cheeks were a light pink.

"How have you been?" she asked a bit breathlessly.

"Well enough," he said. "I've been relegated to paperwork until my leg heals up completely. I reckon it'll only be another week before I'm out in the field again. They haven't given me a new partner yet since I've been desk-ridden, though, so I suppose some good has come out of that bloody bite."

She couldn't laugh along with him, and he saw.

"Come on, Evans," Dagley urged her. He reached out and put his hand over hers. "If you don't laugh about it, you'll never stop feeling guilty, and I can't have you feeling guilty for me on a date."

"Right," she said. "Right."

This was a date.

She hadn't forgotten that. Her nervousness had all but consumed her the night before despite her talk with Uriah, coupled as it was with thoughts of confronting Cassie. Lily knew perfectly well that this moment, sitting across from Dagley in the middle of a pub, wasn't just two partners meeting up to talk. This was absolutely a date.

What made a date different from any other time they'd spent together?

"How's life as a professor?" Dagley asked, pulling his hand away.

Lily found she liked his hand on hers. A shame that she'd noticed only once it was gone.

"I'm…figuring it out," she admitted, and then laughed a little. "I hadn't realised how much work goes into it all. I think I've told McGonagall ten times now how much I appreciate her efforts when I was younger."

"I can imagine," he said.

"Oh I don't think you can."

Dagley raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She shook her head, a tiny smile playing on her lips. "No. If the work weren't enough, I've got to keep track of seven different years of students. Quite a lot to juggle."

"Seven?" he looked aghast. "What on earth happened to Beatrice Marsh?"

"You know Professor Marsh's first name?"

"What, you didn't?"

Lily narrowed her eyes. "Honestly," she said, a bit sour, "it's not that unusual to not know your professors' given names. Anyhow, she's gone. Except for Herbology, all of the core classes have only one professor for all seven years now. And Hagrid was telling me just the other day that Hollenbrook has been talking about retiring at the end of this term."

"Isn't that a bit much?"

"Well, there are less students."

She watched as this information sank in for Dagley, the look in his eyes much like her own (or so she imagined) not even two weeks past. He let out a low breath and slumped in his seat, and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Shit."

"Mm."

They were silent for a few minutes, both of them lost in the chatter and bustle of the Three Broomsticks. Lily allowed the sound to wash over her.

She found herself looking at Dagley as he stared down into his glass of Firewhiskey with his lips turned down. It hadn't just been an off moment at St. Mungo's—he really was a handsome man, though perhaps not conventionally so. His nose was long and a little crooked. He'd broken his nose once as a child, she knew. That nose of his shouldn't have paired well with his full lips but somehow he pulled it off. Perhaps it was thanks to his wide blue eyes, or his natural charm.

Quite suddenly she realised those blue eyes of his were looking right into hers, a question in them that made her heart squeeze for a brief moment.

Lily looked away and bit her lip, knowing her cheeks were unnecessarily pink.

So she had been caught staring. So what? Honestly, it was a date. She was here to figure out exactly how she felt about the man sitting across from her, so why shouldn't she have a proper look at him? As if he hadn't done the same to her at some point, though she couldn't think of a time she'd actually caught him.

Her insides twisted.

"I need something to drink," she announced. "I'll…I'll be back in a minute."

Lily stood up hastily and headed to the bar before Dagley could say a word.

Calm down, Evans, she scolded herself.

What on earth was she so worked up about? This was Dagley! Peter Dagley, her partner for almost a year and a half, who was absolute shit at reassuring Muggles and insisted upon tea time even while out in the field. Dagley, who was among the gentlest people she knew. What about him should make her react like this, for Merlin's sake?

"Goblin gin, on the rocks, please," Lily said when the young barmaid came over to her, the same one who'd been chatting with Isabella before the meeting.

"Anything else, love? Top off for your young man over there?"

Lily nearly smiled at the idea of this girl calling Dagley a "young man" when she was so young herself.

"No, no top off. I don't think so, at least."

"Right, then. Give me a moment."

"I don't think we've met," Lily said suddenly. "I'm Lily Evans. I'm filling in for Professor Flitwick up at the school."

The barmaid squinted at her. "You were a student about ten years back, weren't you? I remember someone who looked a lot like you back when I was apprenticing. Rosmerta's the name." She reached across the bar to give Lily's hand a quick, professional shake. "Welcome back, I s'pose. Here's your gin."

"Thanks."

"I'll be seeing you, I expect," said Rosmerta, and then she winked. "Now go on back to your handsome man, there."

Lily threw her a brief grin before turning and heading back to the booth where Dagley sat staring at his hands. She steadied herself with several long, deep exhalations and willed her fingers to stop trembling.

Dagley looked up when she slid into the seat across from him again.

"You know," he said, "this doesn't have to be a date."

That stung a little. "No?"

"At least, not at the moment," he added quickly. "We're both a little nervous, I think, so why don't we just…say this is a meet-up of two good friends and coworkers who haven't seen each other in a few weeks, hm? It can be a date later, if you'd like."

She hadn't considered that Dagley would be nervous, too, but now that he'd said it Lily didn't know why she hadn't. Not even a month had passed since he'd tried to ask her out for a date in front of Mrs Bloome's house, and he'd been nervous then. Strangely, his admission relaxed her.

"Alright," she agreed. "For now."

"For now." Dagley leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And by the way, you'll never guess what Holmes said to Trust yesterday."

"Oh, no."

Dagley spent the next hour working hard to make Lily laugh, and mostly succeeding, with stories about their shored up Squad. With two members injured and one on leave, First Muggle Squad was temporarily relegated to paperwork and housecalls—which did not suit the temperament of most of the Squad members, chief among them Kieran Holmes.

This was not a surprise, considering Kieran's restless personality.

She had questions bubbling inside her about recent threats, and about the Second Muggle Squad's recent losses, but she pushed them down and did her best to let herself enjoy Dagley's presence. This was not a work related meeting between them, for once, and Lily decided as tears leaked out her eyes through her laughter that this was a far overdue moment.

When both their drinks were drained, Dagley leaned back with a relaxed grin.

"D'you know what I haven't done in years and years?" he asked her.

"Oh, not on the first date."

Twin splotches of crimson blossomed on Dagley's cheeks. "Oy! Evans, I'm being a bloody gentleman here."

She snickered. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I'll behave."

"Right, sure."

"I will!" said Lily. "Come on, then, has it got something to do with Hogsmeade? Back when you were a wee student?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," he said.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Let's have it, then. What haven't you done in years and years?"

"Gone to Honeydukes."

Lily blinked in surprise. "You know, I thought you were going to say Zonko's or something sneaky. You haven't gone to Honeydukes since you were a student, Dags?"

Dagley shook his head. There was a childlike delight his eyes. "My mates and I used to get giant bags of sweets, big as we could carry—we'd automatically lose if we used magic to carry them—and take them back to the school. And then we'd stuff ourselves. The person who got sick last won, and if we won we got to boss everyone around for a week."

"That is so stupid."

"That's being a teenage boy, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Merlin, I hope none of my students do that."

"Bet you anything they do."

"Well," said Lily, "I won't stuff myself until I get sick, but if you'd like to go to Honeydukes right now I'd love to join you."

He grinned broadly. "How about it, then?"

Dagley left a Galleon and a few Sickles on their booth, charmed for only the barmaid to take. Lily tried to pay for her drink but he would have none of it. And she let him, in the end. She could let herself be spoiled by him at least once.

Snow was billowing around in heavy drifts outside, landing in small, thick clumps on Lily's eyelashes and her hair where it poked out in curls from her coat's collar. She was grateful for the knit cap she'd brought, grateful because her hair often frizzed as it dried. Dagley had seen all that at one point or another but…well, this was different.

The sky was mostly dark, the setting sun blanketed by the thick clouds above, and the streetlamps were all aglow. Lily wrapped her arms around herself and tried to keep her pace slow for Dagley, who was shuffling through the inch of newly fallen slow a little awkwardly with his cane. The cold nipped at her nose and cheeks and her teeth began to chatter.

"Bloody hell," Dagley murmured next to her. "Should've cast a proper Warming Charm."

"I'm not taking my hands out for anything but the door handle now," Lily told him. She jutted her chin toward the Honeydukes door just ahead.

"Blast this leg," he said.

Lily guessed she wasn't meant to hear that—if Dagley had meant her to, he wouldn't have said it into his scarf. But she _did_ hear it, and another flood of guilt washed through her, making the cold sting a little more sharply on her face. Rather than show him that expression and set him worrying again, Lily hurried her pace to get ahead of Dagley and opened the door for him.

A flurry of snow swept inside Honeydukes, eagerly intruding upon the warmly lit store. The flush of snow was so thick that Lily couldn't even see inside for a moment, but from the lack of chatter she imagined the sweets shop was not all that busy. That, at least, was a relief after the crowd in the Three Broomsticks.

Dagley limped past her hurriedly and Lily dragged the door shut behind them, the storm winds fighting her a little as she pulled on the handle.

"Damn," he said, looking at the floor.

The snow that had blown itself inside had melted instantly on the hardwood and created a large puddle all around them. Before Lily could even move Dagley had his wand out and had the water evaporating into a warm steam. He turned the wand to himself next, his grip on his cane suspiciously tight.

"You alright, Dags?" Lily asked.

"My injury doesn't like the cold," he said. "Don't worry about it. Couple minutes and it'll stop aching."

Lily pursed her lips. She tugged off her knit cap and combed her fingers through her hair to keep herself from saying something yet again.

"You like chocolate?"

"Course I like chocolate," she said. "What sort of fool doesn't?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," said Dagley. "Apparently Lennox can't stand the stuff."

"No."

"It's true."

"Then he's not getting any."

"No, certainly not." Dagley was grinning. "I suppose you had the same thought as me, though? Get the Squad some treats?"

Lily pushed a lock of hair away from her face, a coy smile on her lips. "Only for the ones who've behaved."

Dagley gave her a searing look that had her heart jumping in response. Her breath caught and she turned away and sauntered toward the nearest stall where an array of chocolate bars was displayed.

"What…er, what does Lucy like? If you happen to know."

She heard Dagley's cane thumping in her direction, and suddenly he was looking over her shoulder and she felt goosepimples on her neck where his breath touched her skin. It was hard to breathe steadily but she tried anyway, tried not to act like an absolute schoolgirl all giddy about her first crush.

…Was that what this was? Did she have a crush on Dagley?

No, that wasn't quite right. That wasn't it, exactly.

"I think Lucy said something about strawberries, but honestly it was during the same conversation where Lennox said he doesn't like chocolate so that's all I really focused on. Oh, no, hang on—Whitby likes hazelnuts in his chocolate."

"I actually knew that."

"…Ah, right," said Dagley, his voice very soft and light. "You used to fancy him, didn't you?"

Lily's mouth twisted into an embarrassed smile. "Back in school, yes."

"That ever difficult for you?"

"You want to talk about blokes I used to fancy?"

"No. Not really."

She snorted. "Then why are you bringing it up?"

She felt Dagley shrug rather than saw him. "I guess I want to know what, er…what draws you to…the, er…the blokes you like. And date."

"Lots of things," said Lily. She stepped away from Dagley to give herself some room to think clearly—and to calm her heart down. Merlin help her, that closeness was almost sexy. "Let's see… I like it when they're nice. I like blokes who are taller than me. I like them clever with just the right amount of mischief. Ooh, I _really _like it when they've got a huuuuge—"

"Oy—"

"Smile," she finished innocently. "What, you thought I was going to say something else?"

"As if I don't know you," he scoffed. "Alright, then. Am I a nice bloke?"

Her breath caught again. "Of course you are. Otherwise I wouldn't…"

Dagley was quiet, watching her so intently that she felt her cheeks flush. She looked away awkwardly but the force of his stare made her self-conscious.

She was so, so tempted to go the other way. _Otherwise, I wouldn't be mates with you_, she'd say, perhaps punch his arm lightly and laugh. Find a chocolate bar that sounded revolting and dare him to eat the whole thing and then make a few jokes that would temper the mood.

But that was cowardly, and she owed Dagley more than that.

"I think I…" She took a breath to steady herself. "I think I might like you. Perhaps."

Dagley frowned.

"I know it's off timing," she added hurriedly, "since Tim and I…since we dropped each other only a few weeks ago. I don't even know who dropped whom… Anyway what I mean is it's rubbish timing but—"

"Evans," said Dagley, "if this is because you feel guilty—"

"No!" Lily opened her mouth to say more and hesitated. "Not _exactly_, no. I mean, that's probably a part of it—but when I found out what happened, when Trust told me…well, I realised I didn't want to be in a world where you weren't…you weren't _alive_, I suppose. Oh, Merlin, that sounds daft. Sorry."

This was so embarrassing. She hadn't done this since forever. It had been Tim who'd approached _her_, after all, and before that she hadn't dated in nearly three years. Lily had forgotten how difficult it could be to get her feelings across properly to a bloke. And this was _Dagley_.

Dagley took a step toward her, his cane thumping heavily. "No Inferius is going to get the best of me. I'll be off these and back on my feet in less than a month. Won't even be much of a scar. Believe me, Evans, I'm not going anywhere."

"It's not about that," she insisted.

It wasn't.

She'd almost managed to put her finger on it—she'd been so relieved when Dagley had pulled through, more relieved than she'd thought possible, and she'd been so _aware_ of him afterwards and even now. It was as if her eyes had been opened to him and she was seeing all sorts of things for the first time.

"Dags." She reached forward and took his free hand in hers. "I really do think I like you. I've given it a lot of thought. I'd like to at least…_try_, with you. If you're still interested."

"Evans…" Dagley pulled in a long draught of air. "I'm always interested. I've been interested as long as we've been partnered up. Of course I'm still interested."

"You—since then?"

They'd been partnered together for over a year now. All that time, in all the moments working together both dangerous and dull, he'd never let on until a few weeks ago. Her thoughts were racing, trying to find some moment in the past that proved him right, something she'd shrugged off but was a sign in retrospect.

She realised her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. "I had no idea, Dags, honest. I'm so sorry."

He ducked his head to hide the dark blush staining his cheeks. "Ah, but you had a bloke. Thought you and Alder were getting hitched, didn't you? Don't be sorry, of course you didn't know. I keep my secrets, and besides that, I didn't want to bother you." Dagley forced out a wobbling laugh. "Bet you weren't expecting that."

Her heart was beating so fast…

"I'm glad," she admitted. "I'm glad you felt that way about me. Merlin help me, I know better."

It was selfish, and possessive, but she was glad that he'd only looked at _her_ since he'd known her. It made her feel so…

"Why don't we give this some time?" he said. "Go slowly. See where it leads us."

Lily nodded as furiously as a bobble-head doll. "I'd like that. I'd really like that."

His smile was huge.

* * *

Lily knocked on Dumbledore's office door lightly the next day, and then with more force after a few seconds passed.

"Yes, come in," Dumbledore called through the door.

She opened it and stepped through, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Lily had not been in Dumbledore's office since she was Head Girl. It was nearly identical to the place she knew from her memories, though Dumbledore's collection of odd trinkets had grown by a dozen. The portraits were all still on the walls, all still sleeping—or pretending to sleep—and looming over her with their reminder of Hogwarts' long legacy.

"Professor," she said, and then stopped. "Er…Professor McGonagall insists that I call her Minerva, but I don't know if I can quite—"

"I told you when I offered you the job that you might grow more comfortable addressing me as Albus,"* Dumbledore interrupted her, smiling at her ramblings. "However, I see no need to force anything on you. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the empty seat across from him at the desk.

"Thank you."

Like Uriah, Dumbledore kept his office chairs soft and comfortable, which reminded Lily yet again to do some spellwork on her own office chairs. She never sat in them so she kept forgetting, but one of these days she'd have a student come in to ask for help and Lily didn't want to scare them off.

She almost said this aloud, but kept her mouth closed tight. She'd only have been rambling again from nerves.

"Speaking of Minerva, she told me you two discussed Remus Lupin," said Dumbledore.

Lily nodded jerkily. "Yes, she, er…he spoke to me about it. I mean, about him."

"I understand you had some concerns?"

"He seems like a nice boy," Lily said quietly.

She didn't look Dumbledore in the eye because she suspected he would see, if their gazes met, that her reservations about Remus Lupin had not yet abated.

Lily did not have any prejudice against werewolves. She knew better than most people the level of ostracisation werewolves experienced—Tim had strong anti-werewolf sentiments that fell in line with most of his department and Lily had had to listen to them. She hadn't grown up with an innate fear of werewolves either, only learning about them in her second year at Hogwarts.

What Lily did have, unfortunately, was firsthand experience.

One of the first field assignments she'd ever had with her Squad was cleaning up a werewolf attack. Gertrude had held her stomach at the sight of the three mangled bodies but Lily had been sick behind a shrub. The subsequent werewolf attacks she'd witnessed hadn't been much better, but at least by then she had learned to not eat beforehand.

There was not a doubt in Lily's mind that Remus Lupin was a nice boy. It wasn't the boy she distrusted. It was his wolf come full moon.

"I'd meant to speak to you of it myself," Dumbledore told her, pulling Lily out of her thoughts. "I was unexpectedly busy with situations outside the castle walls."

"Order business, sir?" she asked.

He nodded solemnly. "I should have taken the time earlier."

"It's alright."

"In any case," he went on, "this is not the reason I asked you to see me."

"No?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "No," he echoed, smiling. "I wanted to know how you've been adjusting to teaching so far."

"Ah," said Lily. She pondered that. "I suppose I'm doing alright? It's an interesting balance of being strict and being approachable. I'm used to doing one or the other. Uriah has been offering me loads of good advice."

"You're getting along well with him?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "He's very easy to get along with, and he seems to like me. I'm grateful to him."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said. "We were very lucky to get Uriah Meadowes—the school he formerly taught at thought very highly of him. They didn't want to let him go. The students here admire him, and I hope we'll be able to keep him for more than a year."

Lily remembered the recent trend of Defense professors. "Why is it that none of them last more than a year?" she asked Dumbledore.

His eyes shuttered at her question. "I have my suspicions," he murmured.

In that moment, he looked like a very old, very weary man whose age had long since caught up to him, his shoulders stooped and head drooping low. This, more than any show of power Dumbledore might display, frightened Lily in a way that made her feel very small.

And then it was as if that second of fragility had never happened, and he was Dumbledore again. "About our Head Boy and Girl, what do you think of them?"

"Hmm..." Lily pursed her lips. The Head Girl was easy, so she started there. "Miss Vance is one of the sharpest students I've ever met," Lily said honestly. "She's not only academically gifted, she's magically talented. But I would say her greatest strength is her understanding of others. She can speak to them in such a way that they'll come to the conclusion she wishes them to. It can be a dangerous gift for someone to have but Miss Vance uses it well."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed.

"Her House has seen an increase in prejudice since I was a student," Lily continued. "It took a little time for me to realise it, because they didn't know I was Muggle-born at first, but I've begun to pick up on it. Miss Vance doesn't seem to hold her House's popular opinion as her own. Yesterday she led a discussion about Muggle-born status in class thanks to our Minister's recent missive."

He nodded. "And of Mr Dearborn?"

Lily had not spent much time observing the burly young man, so she had to consider her words carefully. "Authoritative," she said at last. "He's good at being heard. From what I can tell, most of the students respect him. Academically, he's competent but not top of the class. His magical talent relies on brute strength which makes it easier for him to enforce the rules."

"I feel the same," he said.

Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"And what do you think about their potential for the Order of the Phoenix?"

She blinked.

Obviously, she must have misheard him.

"Sir?"

"Emmeline Vance and Rhys Dearborn," said Dumbledore. "What do you think of their potential for the Order?"

"They're children," Lily said slowly. "They might be legal adults but they are still children. You can't be considering th—"

"We don't allow anyone into the Order who is not of age, nor anyone who is still in school," he cut her off gently. "But the Order of the Phoenix needs the younger generations. I might have founded it with Alastor, but it is you, Lily, and people like Miss Vance, who hold the future. I did not pick the name merely because of my affinity for phoenixes, you know."

She couldn't think of a proper reason to protest. In fact (though she disliked it), Lily believed he was right. The enthusiasm of youth was important.

"In…" She cleared her throat. "In that case, perhaps not Mr Dearborn."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? And why not?"

"From what I've seen, he tends to charge into things without thinking," she said. "I might be wrong. I haven't spent much time with him."

"Interesting…" Dumbledore considered her with those wise eyes of his. "Mr Dearborn's uncle describes him as a level-headed boy with good judgment. So does Minerva."

"They likely know better than I," said Lily. She noted that Rhys' uncle must be Caradoc, the Gringotts employee. "Like I said, I haven't spent much time with him."

But Lily didn't think she was wrong, even as she kept saying so. Her first impression of Rhys Dearborn was on the start of term when he'd stormed into the middle of the suit-of-armour fight and chased after the troublemakers—troublemakers she'd since decided were Potter and his three friends. Dearborn had been strong enough to break their enchantments but, when confronting Potter's gang, had gone after them without considering the four-on-one odds he was up against.

Of course those sorts of tactics applied less in a school setting than they did out in the field, but Lily thought of it as an early tell. She believed that, amongst the two Head students, Vance was the tactician and Dearborn the muscle. As a team they surely functioned well together but if Dearborn was by himself she didn't think he'd have the presence of mind to stop and think. Lily had a strong feeling that he'd hurtle headlong into danger, bolstered by confidence in his own strength, and end up getting hurt. Or worse.

She liked to think she could read people.

"I don't like the idea of either of them in the Order," Lily said, hoping to get the conversation off Dearborn a little. "Perhaps I'm older than I thought, but even the seventh years look like children to me. I don't think it's safe for them."

"Being safe isn't an option for them," Dumbledore told her. "Not after they leave Hogwarts."

That was true.

"They need more experience, then. N.E.W.T. level spells aren't always enough."

"I think our members are more than qualified to teach them as they go along," he said.

"If they join."

"Indeed, only if they join."

Lily pursed her lips again. "I don't like it," she repeated, "but when I think about Miss Vance in the Order, I believe she would make a fine addition."

Dumbledore nodded. "Like you, I don't relish the thought of sending children out to fight," he told her quietly. "As one gets older, the young seem even younger. Yet I can't allow myself to decide whether or not an adult—and despite their youth, both Miss Vance and Mr Dearborn are adults—have the right to take charge of their own destiny. Who am I to decide they shouldn't fight? Even so, who am I to decide they should? In the Order, I can protect them a bit better. And the Order needs more people."

She expected him to say more, but Dumbledore appeared to fold into himself, lost in thought. She stayed perfectly still.

It must be something terrible to be Albus Dumbledore, she decided. To provide safety for so many children, and to send them out to fight and die when they grew older was surely be a terrible thing. Lily had known the Head students for only two weeks and she already hated to imagine them at war against the Followers—and the Inferi and the giants and whatever else Voldemort would throw at them.

It must be something terrible to decide who belonged on the front lines.

The silence stretched out, becoming less and less contemplative and more nerve shearing.

At last Lily burst out, "Did you need something else from me, sir?"

"Hmm?" Dumbledore looked at her. "My apologies, Lily. No, if there is nothing you need from me you may go."

However, when Lily stood up he made an "Ah!" sound that had her pausing with her knees slightly bent and her fingers perched on the arm of the chair.

"Sir?"

"Mr Peridenn's trial," he said. "Forgive me, I almost forgot."

"His trial?" Lily was surprised that Dumbledore would mention it. "Do you know when it is?"

"Edgar told me after the meeting yesterday. It's to be on the twenty-second of February."

Lily flipped through her internal calendar. "Isn't that a Tuesday?"

"It is," he agreed. "I'm planning to attend. If you're interested, we can arrange your schedule so that your students on that day are supervised in the library. I've already spoken to Madam Pince about it as a possibility."

"Yes," she said immediately. "Yes, I would like to go."

There wasn't a question about it. Even if Lily felt obligated to her students, she had a vested interest in Julian Peridenn's trial. Though Fabian and Gideon had been the ones to bring Peridenn in, Lily had duelled with him more than once. Peridenn was a known Muggle baiter who particularly delighted in hunting down the Muggle spouses of witches and wizards. Lily and Dagley had kept the man from killing several Muggles over the past two years. Others had not been so lucky. Even with his mask on Lily had known it was Peridenn, because his glowing golden eyes were hard to hide behind any mask.

To see Peridenn tried and convicted for his crimes was a moment she'd long desired to witness. That Dumbledore knew this about her was both pleasing and unnerving.

"I'll inform Madam Pince," he said.

Thinking of managing her schedule pulled Lily's thoughts off Peridenn and onto another source of terror entirely.

"Sir, if it's not too much trouble…there's something else I need to take time off for."

"Hmm?"

She sighed. "My sister's wedding is in June," she explained.

"Ah, Petunia's getting married?" asked Dumbledore, his tone one of pleasant surprise.

It took a moment for Lily to remember why Dumbledore knew her sister's name. "Yes," she said slowly. "I received an invitation—you must understand, she never wants to see me, so I really would like to go. I'd like to see her. The dates are the fourteenth and fifteenth and those are the dates of exams but—"

"The exam schedule is a bit different, as you know," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure we'll be able to make it work. You should be with your sister on her wedding day."

"Thank you."

"I can't begrudge you a happy occasion," he told her. "Unfortunately, I suspect it will be one of few."

* * *

_I know, there's no James in this chapter. But to be fair-he's only a minor character at the moment. Tertiary at best. I promise he'll be in the next one, and the one after that. In the meantime, bless you all once again for being patient and lovely. See you in a couple of months!_


	6. Of Liquor and Friendship

**A Matter of Timing**

**Chapter Six  
Of Liquor and Friendship**

There was a thin line between charismatic and obnoxious, Lily mused, as she oversaw her sixth-year N.E.W.T. class. James Potter certainly had the respect of his classmates—earned through his bold personality, she assumed—and had wit enough to gain laughs each class…but on the other hand…

"Oy, Professor," Potter called out. "Professor! Hullo, Professor?"

Lily turned her gaze to him and said coolly, "If you have a question, Mr Potter, please raise your hand. Otherwise it can wait until after class."

"But I've got a question that can't wait," he whined.

"Raise your hand, then."

"Now that just seems silly, doesn't it," he said, "since we're already talking."

She looked to Marjorie Dunhill again. "Make certain to hold your wrist like this"—she demonstrated with her hand aloft and wrist turned slightly to the right—"and it won't turn to sand like that. Would you like to try again?"

Dunhill nodded enthusiastically, but before she could watch her student make her next attempt, Lily was distracted by a _thunk_ behind her. She whipped around and saw what looked like a slightly chipped statue of a paper aeroplane.

"What do you think of that, professor?" Potter said smugly. He leaned back in his seat, ruffling his hair with one hand and tapping the base of his wand on his desk with the other.

"Don't do that," she instructed, looking at his wand. "You'll send sparks out all over."

"Nah, I'm pretty good with my wand," he said dismissively. "Don't you think so, Professor?"

Lily sighed. "Hold on a moment, Mr Potter," she told him. She bent to pick up the very heavy statue of the paper aeroplane and examined it, tapping the chipped nose with her finger and coming away with a little bit of grit. If there had been sand on the inside it should have come pouring out, but just to be certain Lily brought her wand down on it with a hard tap and the tiny statue broke clean in half, stone to the core.

"Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr Potter," she said. "Well done. I'd like you to help Mr Pettigrew with his own technique for the remainder of the class."

"Ten points?" Potter said with a pout.

"I've been very clear about my policy," said Lily. "Ten points to the first person to master a spell. Five points to the next four people. Do you have a problem with that?"

He laid his wand down on his desk and turned in his chair so that he was facing her completely, arm slung over the back of the chair that was now on his right.

"Ah, Professor," he said, grinning, "don't you have a better reward to give me?"

"Would you like me to take away those points, then?"

"Nah," he said, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I just thought, you know, since it's me, you'd have a little something extra. Y'know, something a bit more fun." He waggled his eyebrows.

Lily had to keep herself from smiling. He was incredibly silly, the paragon of a cocky teenage boy. It amused her to think that his behavior had once been the sort of thing she liked. What a difference a decade made. However, if she let herself show amusement he would see it as permission to continue.

She put the broken halves of the paper aeroplane statue on the desk next to Dunhill's and crossed her arms, giving Potter a hard, unimpressed look. He stared back at her determinedly, a wicked smile tugging at his lips, until something caused him to wrench his gaze downward.

Potter ran his fingers through his hair and ruffled it, letting out a laugh that sounded forced. She took it as his surrender.

"Thank you," she said, and turned back to Dunhill, who'd apparently been watching that entire exchange with wide eyes. "Miss Dunhill?"

"R-right," said Dunhill, looking hastily back at her wooden whistle. She raised her arm and—after double checking her form—silently flicked her wand at the whistle.

It turned to stone on the outside, but when Lily cleaved it in two a small bit of sand dribbled out.

"Very close," Lily encouraged her. "You just need a bit more conviction, I think. But your form was spot on that time. Practice holding your wrist like that without your wand so the feel of it becomes natural and by next class I think you'll get it down perfectly."

Dunhill nodded vigorously. "Yes!" she said, and held her wrist out with a face so scrunched up in concentration that Lily couldn't quite hold back a smile.

"Professor Evans?"

Lily glanced over her shoulder. "Miss Selwynn?"

Estella Selwynn sat straight in her chair, one perfectly manicured hand raised and a bored (yet somehow still expectant) expression upon her face.

"Professor, will you check my work please?" she said while lowering her hand.

There was a statue of a clock on her desk that, unlike Dunhill and Potter's dark granite, was a lighter marble that gleamed under the sunlight pouring in through the windows.

Lily picked up the clock statue and gave it a long look. "The individuality of the stone is impressive," she remarked.

It was a challenge for her to compliment Selwynn.

In the last month Lily had come to realise that she genuinely disliked Estella Selwynn, not only because the girl wore blinders when it came to the war and the constant death outside of their sanctuary of a school, but also because Selwynn was rude. She had a haughty, self-satisfied air that often surrounded the rich and powerful, and spoke to students and professors alike with a condescending tone that set Lily's teeth on edge.

However, she couldn't act according to her own personal dislike toward a student, so Lily made every effort to be impartial. And the stone _was_ impressive.

She tapped the watch statue open and with a loud crack it cleaved in two, momentarily quieting the classroom with the sound.

"Perfect," Lily remarked. "Five points to Slytherin for being the second person to master the spell, and an extra five points for the unique composition."

"Thank you, Professor," Selwynn said.

Her face didn't reveal anything, nor did her tone. Was she pleased? Annoyed? Lily couldn't tell and it irked her, though getting annoyed by such a petty thing should've been beneath her.

"I would like you to find a student struggling with their technique and help them for the remainder of the class," Lily said, doing her best to remain neutral.

"There are only six minutes of class left, professor," Selwynn answered.

"Yes, that is correct."

Selwynn's left eye twitched ever so slightly. "I can't imagine six minutes providing any valuable assistance."

"You'll never know unless you try," Lily told her, and left before she lost her cool.

She stayed at her desk for the remaining five-and-a-half minutes of class waiting for someone to call her over for assistance, but the students were managing just fine without her.

A part of her was extremely pleased by that, the part that wanted to see these children succeed, but a smaller part was slightly resentful that she wasn't needed. It was a silly thing to feel. She had been needed earlier. They couldn't have learnt the spell by themselves, after all.

Selwynn, she saw, did get out of her desk to work with one of her housemates, though her entire body screamed her disinterest. Potter was helping Pettigrew as well, enthusiastically guiding the short boy despite Pettigrew's evident frustration.

When the bell rung, Lily called out over the renewed loudness of her students. "Mr Potter, a moment if you please."

Potter, who was already on his way out shoulder-to-shoulder with Black and Lupin, craned his neck back to look at her. A cocky, self-assured smile blossomed on his lips and he knocked his fist on both boys' backs hard enough to make them grunt before heading to her desk. He walked with a slow, easy swagger until he stopped right in front of Lily.

"Professor," he said, smirking.

"Mr Potter, I've yet to receive your essay on the Aguamenti spell," she said, and the smirk slid off his face. "I expected it on my desk last Wednesday."

"Ah…_that_," Potter hedged. "Hm."

"Yes, that," said Lily. "Is there some reason I haven't gotten it from you? I'd like to know before I take points."

Potter scratched the back of his neck. "Er…that's because…" He trailed off, obviously at a loss for words.

Lily waited, though a bit impatiently. Her first year class of Ravenclaws and Slytherins were due to arrive in little more than ten minutes and she had some materials to prepare.

"Honestly, I forgot all about it," he confessed in a rush.

She raised her eyebrows. "You forgot."

"I forgot," Potter said again. He sighed.

"Mr Potter—"

"Look, Professor, it's not a good reason, but I've been spending some of my free nights watching the Slytherins at practise. I know that's not good sportsmanship, but they've got a fantastic team this year and I'd like to beat them in the ground in the match next month so I've been watching them and working up new strategies for my team. I guess I let a few things slip."

"You're the Gryffindor captain?" she asked, surprised.

He nodded. "Have been since last year." That damned smirk of his crept back onto his lips. "I'm pretty good with my broom."

That was two innuendos in ten minutes. Lily almost rolled her eyes. If she acknowledged them, he'd take it as a victory.

"I watched your practise one morning," she told him. "Your team is excellent. I don't think you need to worry so much about the upcoming match that it affects your schoolwork. I'll have to take ten points for your lateness."

"Yes, Professor."

"However, I'll still accept it if you turn it in by the seventh," she added.

Potter visibly brightened, pushing his glasses up his nose and leaning forward to say, in a voice he probably thought was alluring, "Doing favors for me, Professor Evans?"

"Minerva and I have a bet against Professor Slughorn," Lily told him, which wasn't a lie. At least, it wouldn't be a lie by tomorrow, according to McGonagall. "I'd like to make money, not lose it. I've little enough as it is."

"Ah, Professor, this is what they call special treatment," he said. "Say, would you help me with my essay tonight? I'm afraid I'll need some up close instruction."

"My office hours are Tuesday and Thursday after dinner," said Lily.

Merlin, she should not laugh. She should _not_ laugh.

"Make an exception for me?"

If she laughed, she would crush his young, fragile ego, and he'd never flirt with anyone again, so she shouldn't laugh. That would be outright cruel.

Lily cleared her throat to buy herself a moment of composure. "Even if I were so inclined to do so, which I am not, I'm not available tonight."

Potter blinked. "Not available?"

"No," she confirmed.

"What on earth could you be doing that would make you unavailable?"

"That's none of your business," she said.

He gave her sad eyes that reminded her strongly of a baby animal. "Come on, Professor. You can tell me. I can keep a secret."

Lily got the distinct impression that he wouldn't give up, so she said, "If you must know, I'm having dinner with some friends tonight."

"Oh?" Potter reveled in his victory. "What's the occasion?"

"My birthday."

His lips parted in surprise. He leaned in further, hazel eyes bright and searching. Lily noticed his glasses were slightly crooked, higher on the left. She caught his scent with his approach, a woodsy smell mixed with broom polish (a scent she negatively associated with her old dorm-mate Pontia) and something like cloves. She kept herself from pulling away in response to his nearness, but only just.

"I didn't realise it was your birthday," he murmured.

"That's because I didn't tell you, Mr Potter. And you're too close."

Potter gave her a smile that lacked all the cockiness he usually displayed around her and moved back by about two inches.

"Happy birthday," he said.

"Thank you."

"You don't look a day over twenty."

"We both know that's not true."

"Would you like a present from me?"

Lily let a smile crack her composure at last. "Mr Potter," she said dryly, "I'm actually afraid that any present you might offer me would be inappropriate. If you really want to give me something, finish that Aguamenti essay and put it on my desk tomorrow evening. Now, I have another class coming in, so if you don't mind…"

She'd glanced past Potter as she spoke and had seen one wide-eyed first-year staring at the pair of them.

"Ah." Potter let out a sigh and straightened up, running his fingers through his hair in a fluid motion that gave him a windswept, playful appearance. "Well then, if you change your mind about a present, you'll know where to find me."

"Please don't wait up," she said with a tight smile.

He left, and the first-year took slow, cautious steps into the classroom, looking back at Potter's retreating form.

"Would you help me set up?" Lily asked the boy brightly.

The boy nodded after one last second of watching Potter, awe evident on his face. It wasn't just his classmates Potter inspired, then: he had a hold over a first-year from another house. If Potter could only stop causing trouble, he'd be a real force to be reckoned with.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm the only sober person in the room," Lily announced dryly. "_And _it's my birthday. How pathetic."

"S'not your birthday," Cassie slurred. "Yesterday was your birthday."

"Yes, thank you, love," said Fabian. He patted Cassie on the head gently. "That's very good. You're very smart for remembering your best friend's birthday."

"Shut up, Prewett," said Cassie. She looked ready to throw a punch, but considering how much alcohol she'd imbibed her aim would likely be wildly off.

Lily stifled a grin.

She'd rented a room for the night at the Three Broomsticks. Or rather, she'd put her name down and the four friends that had joined her wouldn't let her pay, insisting it was their treat. Lily wasn't about to complain, not with her gapingly empty vault at Gringotts. She wasn't planning to stay the night in town, either, but given the drinking habits of her friends she thought it best to have the option available. Never drink and Apparate, after all.

And it was nice to have four of her favourite people in one room on her birthday.

Day after her birthday.

The Prewetts were unavailable on the thirtieth, so Lily had decided she'd rather wait a day than have a smaller number of friends. Rather, she didn't want only Cassie, Margot, and herself in one room. That was an invitation for disaster.

"Being sober isn't so terrible," said Margot, waving her glass of goblin gin around dangerously. "In fact, most of us are sober most of the time."

"Yes, but there's something particularly miserable about solitary sobriety," she said.

"Just one drink," Cassie said with a wicked smile. "A bit of champagne won't hurt."

"You say that now, but then the next thing I know I'm waking up in Diagon Alley with a splitting headache and two house-elves staring down at me."

Cassie pouted. "Once. That happened _once_. Years ago!"

Fabian's brows lifted. "I have not heard this story," he said, glancing between Lily and Cassie with twitching lips.

"And you never will," Cassie told him.

Margot leaned forward. "Wait, wait, wait—was this before my time?"

"Oh, yes," Lily said, delightedly watching Cassie squirm. "Yes, this was Christmas holidays in our seventh year, when Cassie had just turned down the amorous affections of a certain—"

"Stuff it, Evans!"

The rest of them laughed loudly, ignoring the scowl blossoming on Cassie's face.

Gideon cleared his throat, speaking up at last. "Isn't it time to pass around presents for our esteemed professor? Unless I'm the only one who remembered to bring anything."

"Right!" Fabian agreed with his twin, eyes twinkling. "If the lady can't have alcohol to celebrate herself, then she should at least get some sort of consolation."

"I'll start!" Margot said eagerly. She finished off her goblin gin in one mighty gulp and then reached down next to her chair. There was nothing there, and then Margot was pulling a large box wrapped in gorgeous white and gold wrapping paper, the designs moving in a wave, and a shimmering ribbon tied around it.

"Oh, no."

"Hush," said Margot. "It's _my_ present for you, I can do what I like. Now open it."

Just like at Christmas, Lily felt horribly inferior. She didn't have the money to give Margot anything of equal return. Even the wrapping paper was far outside of Lily's budget.

This was stupid. She was being stupid. What did it matter how much money either of them had?

Lily plastered a smile on her face and took the large wrapped box. "Oh, dear," she murmured. "What do we have here?"

Margot's returned smile threatened to split her face in two, which made Lily feel slightly better about accepting the gift. She untied the ribbon carefully and tapped her wand to unwrap the paper. Something that nice needed to be preserved. Of course, the expensive wrapping paper was nothing compared to what was inside the box.

"Oh, Mags," Lily breathed when she lifted the lid. "This is…this is spectacular."

"Remember, I promised you a dress!"

"Mags, it's gorgeous," she said.

That was all she could think, over and over. This was a stunning work of art, the fabric a deep cobalt blue that shimmered like sun-struck water. Lily pulled it out of the box and stood, holding it out before her. Cassie gave a cooing sound and stumbled to her feet, and came over to pull the dress from Lily's hands and pin it—somewhat clumsily—against Lily's frame.

It had a high empire waist with a floor length skirt. Gold thread marked the border between skirt and bodice, not merely a line but an embroidered design of stars. The thread stars went down the skirt and the hem twinkled with more gold thread.

Of all things, it reminded Lily a little of the Disney Cinderella movie that Petunia had loved when they were children, though this dress and that weren't so similar. Petunia hadn't let her watch it ever since Lily received her Hogwarts letter but she still remembered the sparkles on that dress, and that was what struck her memory.

"Nicely done, Keller," Gideon praised. "You designed that?"

"I did!" Margot said, blushing and grinning in a mixture of pride and humility.

"Merlin, I can't top this," said Cassie, throwing the dress back into Lily's hands. "Fab, give her the present. I can't bear to now."

Fabian ran a hand over his mouth, clearly hiding a grin. He reached down beside his chair and grabbed a small wrapped box, the paper plain and uncharmed, with no ribbon attached to it. Only a hastily scrawled "To Lily, love from Fabian and Cas" on the top indicated that this was, in fact, a gift.

Lily smiled, secretly relieved. "Pass it over, then."

She sat down and folded the dress back into its box as the small present went from Fabian's hands to Gideon's, and then to Margot before landing on Lily's lap.

"It's a book," she guessed.

"Just open it!"

"It's a book," she repeated, smirking.

Cassie sighed loudly. "Like I'd tell you! Open the bloody thing."

Lily tore off the paper, careful to not rip the writing on the top, and lifted the lid of the small box off.

"It's a scarf."

"Got you," Fabian said. He rubbed his hands together in excitement, a boyish smile blossoming on his face. "How d'you like it?"

"Excellent," Lily said, wrapping the dark blue cashmere around her neck. "Very soft. Thank you."

She smiled at both Fabian and Cassie, and Cassie turned red right before she grabbed a glass of Firewhisky (probably not her own) and finished it off in a giant gulp.

"I got you goblin gin," Gideon announced, passing a bag over. "Not top shelf, exactly, but not the bottom shelf either. Save it for a special occasion, yeah?"

"I will," said Lily.

"Right," Cassie said loudly, still pink-cheeked. "I think we need more mead up here. And more food. Who's going to come down with me to haul it all back?"

Margot giggled. "Silly, you've got magic! You can haul it all back yourself!"

"Oh, no," Fabian and Lily said together. Lily pursed her lips in a smile, and Fabian continued. "Don't ever let this woman use magic while she's drunk. Unless you want something blown up. Come on, love," he said to Cassie, getting up and pulling her with him. He steadied her with an arm at her back and led her to the door.

Gideon paused a moment, looking between Lily and the exiting pair, before saying, "Should I be concerned?"

"Best go with them," Lily agreed, nodding. Drunk as they were, Fabian and Cassie would likely get distracted halfway down the stairs and start snogging like teenagers if they didn't have a chaperone. As third wheels, Lily and Gideon had found this out the hard way.

As soon as they'd left, Lily looked down and touched the dress Margot had designed for her.

"This really is beautiful, Mags. I don't deserve something this nice."

"Pish. I design lovely things for lovely people. It's your own fault for being beautiful, you know. If you weren't, I might have given you a bag to wear over your head instead."

She couldn't help but snort at that. "Let me say thank you, brat."

Margot gave a lusty, alcohol-fueled wink. "You're welcome."

"How's the shop?"

"Same as ever. The Malkin girl I hired has an eye for details, so she's working out wonderfully. Much less hassle than my last hire."

"Tell me about Robert Bellman," Lily said, keeping her voice light. She'd promised to ask Margot about this, and with the younger woman in such a good mood it seemed like the best time to try. "It's been over a month now. Have you two gotten to know each other better?"

Margot put her champagne flute down gently. "Yes…we're doing quite well, thank you."

"I mean—" She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I want to know about _him_."

"What, precisely, do you want to know?"

Lily narrowed her eyes. "Why are you avoiding the question?"

"Because you sound just like Cassie right now," said Margot, her arms crossing defensively. "She hasn't exactly been subtle in her disapproval."

"She cares about you," Lily told her. "Much as she likes to pretend otherwise."

"She's got an awfully rude way of showing it."

"Well, you knew that."

Margot glared. "Don't _tease_, Lily, it's really not alright! I'm tired of hearing the judgment in her voice whenever she brings up Rob. I'd hoped it would be different with you, but apparently I was mistaken."

"So you call him Rob."

An oppressive silence settled between them, thick and uncompromising.

There was so much Lily wanted to say: warnings about dating an older man, warnings about dating a rich man…wanting to know everything about the person her friend was dating and yet wishing they weren't dating at all. And on top of all of that, not wanting to push Margot away because of some man.

"I call him Rob," Margot said at last. "He calls me Maggie."

"Maggie?"

Margot nodded. "Mm."

"Do you…like being called Maggie?"

"I do," said Margot, looking to be in deep thought. "I like it the most when he calls me that, though. Not when other people do."

Lily pursed her lips. "I know. You've never let me call you Maggie."

"Jealous?"

"Concerned."

Margot's eyes narrowed again. "Lily—"

"I don't want to upset you," she said hurriedly, "but you can't deny you've always hated that nickname. The fact that Robert Bellman is calling you a name you've never liked worries me. Do you like it because he wants you to or—"

"I like the way he says it, alright?" snapped Margot. "He…he _says_ it differently. It's sweet. And sexy."

Lily took in a sharp breath. "Have you two…have you…"

"What? Slept with him?"

"Yes."

"I haven't."

She looked at Margot in surprise.

Margot let out a dissatisfied huff. "Honestly, Lily, do you think I just spread my legs right from the off?"

"That's not what I—"

"He's being very careful with me," Margot went on. "He's a perfect gentleman. And for some reason, the pair of you are ganging up on me about—"

"We're not _ganging up_, Mags, we just love you and want the best for you!" said Lily. "It's just the same as when I was dating Tim and Cassie kept telling me to drop him."

"It's not the same," said Margot, "because Tim was shit and Rob isn't. He _isn't_. Merlin's beard, Lily, you haven't even met the man!"

Lily took a deep breath and held back the words of warning she wanted to give her young friend, because clearly Margot wouldn't listen to anyone on the matter. Instead, she crossed her legs and forced herself to relax.

"You're right, I haven't met him," she said. "I would like to."

"With the way you're judging him right now, I'm not certain I want you to meet him."

"Come on, Mags," said Lily. "Don't be stubborn. If you really feel he's a good man for you, then you can prove it to me by having us come face to face. Surely you can't object to that?"

Margot crossed her arms and said nothing.

This was one of Margot's flaws. She could be stubborn beyond reason, often ignoring white flags and olive branches in favour of a good, self-righteous sulk. Since Lily had a tendency to do something similar when she was younger it was hard to begrudge that habit. But that didn't mean Margot's coldness didn't sting.

"It's my birthday," Lily said, coaxing, putting a pout on her lips. "Please don't be cross with me."

After a long moment, Margot's stony expression softened. "I'm not cross with you."

"Liar."

"I'm not," she repeated. "I'm annoyed, but it isn't really your fault. I would just prefer not to have my judgment called into question."

"It isn't your judgment I question," said Lily gently. "Only his intentions. But let's not talk of that now."

"No," Margot agreed. "I don't see you nearly enough. Tell me what's going on in your life."

Lily smiled in relief and began telling Margot about the ups and downs of teaching, the students she liked best and what some of the troublemakers had gotten up to. She spoke of Uriah, how he'd given her solid advice in teaching and the way he'd quickly struck up a friendship with her.

What Lily didn't speak of was Dagley. She didn't know if it was the arrival of Cassie and the twins—bearing armloads of more food and drink—or if she'd held her tongue for another reason.

She didn't know what to think about that, nor did she _want_ to think of it. She'd told Cassie all about the newness between her and Dagley, even though their relationship was still on the mend. It'd been easy to speak of her partner with Cassie. Deciding whether her reservation was due to Dagley or Margot required an introspection Lily wasn't willing to undergo tonight.

* * *

After another hour of loud revelry, Lily slipped out into the hallway to escape the noise. Aurors, she'd decided years ago, were heavy drinkers. Any time they didn't have to be alert and on duty, they went in entirely the opposite direction. She could still hear the near-shouting that was Cassie's animated voice as it fought to be heard over all others—and the moderate din from the downstairs pub—but the sounds were muted by the thick door.

Only a few moments after she'd escaped the room, the sound went to full volume again and Lily glanced to her right.

Gideon slid out into the hall with her, closing the door behind him and muffling the sound.

"Hullo," he said quietly. "Sorry you couldn't start on the gin tonight."

"I'll save it for a day I really need it," said Lily. "I think Cassie's drinking for the both of us right now. I'm not too bothered."

They shared a smile as, right on cue, Cassie let out an indecipherable bellow inside the room.

"She was a mess when the two of you were on the outs," Gideon said suddenly. "I mean, I suppose _we_ were on the outs too, but she took it hard. Apparently you two had never not spoken to one another like that."

Lily nodded, feeling a little ashamed despite herself.

Gideon stood beside her, drumming his fingers on the wall in a disorderly staccato. He didn't say anything for a long while, and then—

"How's your partner's leg?"

She swallowed. "I saw him a couple weeks ago. He was walking, but with a cane. I haven't heard from him since, but I suspect he's on the mend."

"Good. That's good. You heard about Hostein?"

"Mm."

"At least the people in the Ministry who thought it was a hoax have shut up now."

"Once it's in the Prophet they don't have much of a choice, do they?"

It felt like Gideon was pulling teeth—his own teeth, judging by his strained voice—to find a topic for them. She wondered why, when he usually found it easy to strike up a conversation. Did he think she was still furious with the twins for not telling her about the Order? She was, but it was an anger that could dissipate with time and words. Surely he'd realised that, once she'd begun speaking to Cassie again.

"Peridenn's trial is coming up," Gideon said after another long moment. "Sorry it's on a weekday."

"It's alright," Lily told him. "Dumbledore got my classes covered. We're both going to the trial."

"Ah, well done."

"Do you know who's heading it?" she asked.

Gideon shrugged. "They're making an announcement tomorrow night at eight. I don't know if it's all been finalised yet, but there's a rumour going 'round that Bagnold will take lead."

"That's a decent call," Lily said. "Will it be a full Wizengamot or an inner trial?"

"No idea. The Minister's been keeping that under wraps. Only the Heads of Department are cleared to know before the trial. Even Moody's in the dark."

She blinked. "Shouldn't Moody be in on that? He's been supervising the hunt for Peridenn since the beginning!"

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Gideon, shrugging. "He's not said a word about it. There has been some talk of possible Follower interference, but no one could possibly suspect Moody. Anyhow, so long as Julian Peridenn gets put away by the end of it, I don't care what sort of trial it is."

Talking of Peridenn with Gideon reminded Lily of something else, something she'd all but forgotten, and she seized the chance to turn their awkward shop talk into something more personal.

"Did you get my note?" Lily asked him. "The one I sent before Christmas? You were out hunting for Peridenn at the time but—"

"Yeah, I got it," he said over her. His tone was brusque, distant even, and Lily's smile faltered. She felt as if she'd just tripped over something.

"Can you not make it?" she said.

Gideon shook his head. "That's not really the issue."

She blinked. "I didn't realise there was an issue to be had."

He turned to her, a heavy sigh exhaled from his lungs. "Lily," he began, "you know you're a dear friend to me. Not only because we're the odd ones out with my brother and Cassie. I really do value you."

"Then what's the trouble?"

"Weddings are…" He hesitated. "They're very romantic, and a lot of feelings can crop up. I don't want there to be any confusion between us."

It took Lily a moment to realise exactly what was going on. When she did, she couldn't help but gape up at Gideon, nearly at a loss for words.

Nearly.

"Do you really think that's why I asked you to go with me?" she managed to say. Each word felt as if it stuck to her throat, pushing past an angrier outburst. It was all but a slap in the face.

How could he? When, in their three years of friendship, had Lily ever shown the slightest interest in Gideon beyond friendship? Theirs had always been a relationship of childish comradery, a light bond with few expectations. How on earth could he act as if she were a love-obsessed idiot who might fall for the nearest man at the first opportunity?

Gideon's eyes were obnoxiously kind. "You've only just broken up with Tim," he said. "I know that was hard for you, and you're likely in a vulnerable place, but I can't give you anything other than my friendship, Lily."

"Don't be so _daft_, you self-concerned idiot," snapped Lily.

"I only meant—"

"I know what you meant!"

"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings," said Gideon.

She scoffed. "No, only trying to insult my intelligence. I _know_ you aren't interested in me. I honestly don't care! And for Merlin's sake, what possessed you to think my sister's wedding would be a romantic occasion? Have I not _told_ you of our relationship, or lack thereof? I only wanted a good friend to lean on—but clearly, I've come to the wrong place."

"Lily—"

"Don't take that tone with me!" she said.

She hated the pity in his voice and eyes, because it meant Gideon wasn't listening to a word she said. He'd gotten it into his head that she fancied him, as if a man and a woman couldn't be friends without some idiot mucking it up. And since Gideon's disinterest in women meant he wouldn't be the one to ruin things, of course he placed the responsibility for this on her.

Any goodwill she'd managed to scrounge up for Gideon since learning he'd lied to her about being in the Order flew out of her, and Lily could only feel anger and betrayal as she looked at the man who'd always been her ally. Was this something that had been rattling around in his head for a long time? Had this been his expectation since the beginning?

He seemed to sense her darkening mood at last, and cleared his throat. "I hope this doesn't affect our relationsh—"

"Oh, _shut up_," she said. "I can't believe you. It's a good thing you're turning down my invitation because I wanted a friend to come along, and you are clearly not that."

Lily threw open the door and stomped into the room, causing Cassie and Fabian's loud banter to falter and trail off.

"Lily?" said Fabian, and she couldn't even look at him because of how his face matched his twin's.

"I'll see you all some other time," snapped Lily as she threw on her cloak. "Apparently, I've got to go and mope about my misfortune with men."

"Lily, hang on now," she heard Gideon say behind her, but she clicked her tongue in impatience and his voice left him in something like a hum.

She gathered up her presents and managed to brush a kiss on Margot's cheek before she left. Going to give Cassie the same treatment would mean looking at Fabian, and Lily didn't trust herself not to get angry at him even though Fabian wasn't the source of her ire. Rather than that, she pushed past Gideon, jamming her shoulder into his arm. She hadn't ever done something like that before and her shoulder throbbed in a dull pain.

"Where are you going?" Cassie called.

"Bye," was all she could manage. Unless she wanted to spin on her heel and let out a second scathing lecture for Gideon, it was best she kept going, down the stairs and out the pub doors into the chill night.

The cold outside sapped at her anger, but not by much. What little anger she managed to lose found its replacement in bitter disappointment.

* * *

It was nearly eight o'clock the next evening when Lily heard a knock on her open office door.

She had spent the last hour grading homework for her third-year classes and waiting for someone—anyone—to take advantage of her office hours since dinner had gotten out. However, just like all other nights when she hosted office hours in this last month, she'd had no visitors. So despite the time, she couldn't deny a little bit of excitement over the possibility.

"Come in," Lily called.

She blinked in surprise when a head of sandy blond hair popped inside the doorframe.

"Good evening, Professor," said Remus Lupin.

"Good evening." Lily waited a moment for Lupin to come in, and when he didn't she added, "Office hours are still on for another five minutes, you know."

"Ah…right."

Looking about as eager as a drenched cat in need of another bath, Lupin edged sideways into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving it cracked ajar.

"What can I help you with, Mr Lupin?" she said.

"Ah…er…" He fidgeted with the strap of his book bag and then suddenly began rummaging through it. "Er, James has practise tonight but he asked me to bring his Aguamenti essay in for him."

Lupin pulled out a tightly rolled scroll of parchment and Lily held out her hand to take it. The second her fingers closed around the scroll Lupin let go as if he was burned.

Lily couldn't help but feel a little insulted but said, "It's nice of you to do that for a friend," as if she hadn't noticed.

"Well, I'd mentioned I was coming here already…"

She put the scroll down and crossed her arms. "Mr Lupin, I understand you are a prefect. I would think you'd be better at speaking up at this point."

"Right, yes…sorry, Professor."

"Don't be sorry, just tell me what you need."

"The, um—the Medusa Charm, Professor," Lupin blurted out. "I can't get it to work right. It keeps turning to sand and Pro—James tried to show me the trick to it but…"

Lily pursed her lips. "You should have come to me earlier in the evening. I don't know if I can do much good in three minutes."

She was annoyingly aware that her words were almost exactly the same as Estella Selwynn's from the day before, but in all honesty, she didn't know how to help him in that short amount of time. She felt useless, and she hated that.

"I, er…didn't know if you would see me."

"It's office hours," she said slowly. "That's when I see students."

Lupin ducked his head. "Ah, yes," he mumbled, "but…you've been made aware of my situation…"

_Oh_, she thought.

Rather stupidly, she had not considered that Lupin would be self-conscious about his lycanthropy.

"Have I made you believe that I am not willing to help you?" she asked, attempting to keep her voice gentle.

"Er…no."

"Mr Lupin," said Lily, leaning forward and lacing her fingers together, "I am responsible for your education. That means I am willing and available to answer your questions and provide assistance. I might be new to teaching but I strongly believe that is an ethic to be upheld, no matter the student."

He nodded slowly. "Then…"

Lily checked the clock above the door. "In a couple minutes, a broadcast I have been waiting to hear will be on the wireless," she said. "If you're fine with waiting until it's over, I can extend my office hours to assist you."

Lupin blinked. "You will?"

"I can," she repeated, "but please understand, Mr Lupin, I am not interested in making this a habit."

"Thank you," he said. His shoulders dropped, and until that moment Lily hadn't realised he'd been tense.

"Take a seat." Lily gestured to the two chairs across from her desk. After a brief moment, Lupin took the one to the right.

She stood and walked to her wireless radio, calling over her shoulder, "Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind."

Lily tapped the wireless on with her wand and fiddled the dial until she landed upon the WWN. It was always something of a bother switching her radio between WWN and The Howler. Wizard radios weren't nearly as direct as the modern Muggle equipment.

A blast of jazz music filled the room and Lily turned the volume down to something more bearable. She grimaced.

"You know," she said to Lupin casually, "I really don't like wizard jazz. Too many bizarre sounds trying to fit in. Give me quality Muggle ragtime and blues any day."

"I suppose," he mumbled.

Lily turned around and headed back to her chair. "What sort of music do you prefer, Mr Lupin?"

"I, er…do you know Black Sabbath?"

She let out a loud, sharp bark of laughter and promptly covered her mouth with both hands. "I'm sorry," she said. It was a challenge not to keep laughing, thanks to Lupin's startled expression. "I'm so sorry. I really wasn't expecting that answer. It doesn't exactly fit with your…image."

Lupin looked down at himself, taking in the neatness of his robes—secondhand though they undoubtedly were—and gave his first (timid) smile. "I suppose not."

"Well, then…" Lily searched for something to say but was saved when that awful wizarding jazz faded off the radio at last.

"_That was off The Phoenix Core's new album, 'Fire up the Cauldrons and the Instruments_,' _on sale next Tuesday,_" announced the smooth talking radio host. "_The Phoenix Core will be playing live in our studio come next Wednesday to celebrate their album release._"

"Ugh," she muttered, and could have sworn Lupin smiled for a moment.

"_Up next, we have information about the upcoming trial for Julian Peridenn, to be held Tuesday the twenty-second of this month at ten o'clock in the morning_."

Lily sat up a bit straighter.

"_The charges for Mr Peridenn are reported to be that of an unspecified count of Muggle-baiting, the murder of four Muggles, the murder of Muggle-born Greg Bean, conspiring with or being a part of the terrorist group described as the Followers, and the murder of Auror Henton Fowler_," the radio host read off. "_Mr Peridenn has evaded arrest for nearly a year, engaging in duels with Hit Wizards in Aurors that have resulted in injury. Mr Peridenn was finally brought in by Gideon and Fabian Prewett, esteemed Aurors, on Christmas Eve_.

"_The trial is of great significance to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who believe Mr Peridenn is among the inner circle of the Followers. As of this date, Julian Peridenn is the first Follower with real information to be brought in to face justice and questioning. Therefore, Head of Department Bartemius Crouch will be supervising the proceedings._"

"What?" Lily murmured, falling back into her chair.

As far back as she could recall, it wasn't for the Head of Law Enforcement to sit at the head of trial. That belonged to a Level One representative such as Millicent Bagnold or Eddie Bones. With that, at least, there was some separation between police and prosecution. How had this been decided? Who'd allowed Crouch to take control of the proceedings like that and set such a nasty precedent?

"_Mr Crouch has gained notoriety since the Stratford Massacre in July of 1974 for his hardline approach against the Followers_," said the radio host, and Lily struggled to pay attention. "_A growing movement within the wizarding populace is calling for Mr Crouch's bid for Minister for Magic. One organisation in particular, dubbed 'Crouch for Common Sense,' has taken the news of this trial as a rallying cry_."

Ah.

Well, that would explain it, wouldn't it? Crouch wanted to be Minister for Magic, and the Minister sat at the head of important trials. Hungry for power as he was, Crouch would ignore the proper procedure in order to further his campaign platform.

"_Mr Crouch's performance presiding over Mr Peridenn's trial may not be the trigger for his campaign for Minister,_" the radio host said, as if he'd read Lily's mind,"_but will demonstrate to both the wizarding public and the community how the Ministry will deal with convicted Followers._

"_This is Halpern Donahue reporting from the Wireless Wizarding Network. And now, please enjoy these words from our sponsors._"

Lily stood again and headed to the radio just as an advert for Drooble's Best Blowing Gum started up an annoying jingle.

"Thank you, Mr Lupin," she said. "Shall we begin?"

"Wait—the trial," said Lupin, turning in his chair to look at her. "Did they really catch Peridenn?"

"Yes, they did," Lily told him. "Why do you ask?"

"The…the seventh-year prefect for our house, last year," he said. "She was Henton Fowler's daughter."

Lily hadn't known that Fowler had any children. She'd barely known Fowler at all, only that he was an Auror of little talent and much determination according to the Prewett twins.

"Were the two of you close?"

"No," he said quietly. "No. I just remember when she got the news. So the Ministry thinks he's in the inner circle?"

"I suppose they do," she said. "He's certainly cruel enough to be one of them."

"You know him?"

"Far better than I'd prefer."

Lupin shifted in his seat. "There's a rumour going 'round that you were there the night of the first Inferi attack," he said. "I don't usually listen to school rumours but…the way you spoke about it our first class—"

"And if I was there?" she asked pointedly. "Mr Lupin, I agreed to extend my office hours to help you with Charms work, not to talk about my Ministry record."

He recoiled a little at that but squared his shoulders. "Sorry, you just, well, you seem to be involved in a lot of incidents. The seventh-years are saying you fought off a wild Manticore?"

"Mr Lupin—"

"Sorry, Professor," he said again, his voice strained. "It's just…well, you've got to understand, we're all cooped up here, we've never done anything like what you have. I just wanted to hear more about it."

She almost—_almost_—preferred the silent, timid Remus Lupin to this shrewd investigator.

"I assure you, when I took a job at the Ministry I wasn't looking for trouble," Lily told him. She returned to her chair once more and settled in. "Rather, trouble keeps finding me."

"R-right."

And now the hesitant version of Lupin was back, ducking his head and looking somewhat ashamed of himself.

Despite herself, Lily felt bad for shutting him down.

"The truth of the matter is," she added gently, "most people at the Ministry have lots of stories to share, these days. I don't like talking about them here because…it's for two reasons. The first is I don't want to be a source of gossip over something…difficult for me to remember, and the second is that my experiences on the job are relatively commonplace and I don't feel right about sharing them as if they're anything special. Now, if you spoke to some of the Aurors I know, you'd hear some real tales."

"Begging your pardon, Professor," he said, sitting up a little straighter, "but you're the one who's here now, not some Aurors."

"Fair point, Mr Lupin," she surrendered. "Fair point. But regardless, you didn't come here to talk about me. You came to talk about you. If you would please demonstrate your mastery of the Medusa Charm so far..." She indicated an inkwell on her desk.

Lupin nodded and scrunched his brow.

"_Relax_," she had to remind him almost immediately.

"Yes. Sorry, Professor."

* * *

Uriah entered her office Friday night with a smile on his face and a bottle of amber liquid in hand.

"Hullo," he said brightly. "Fancy a drink?"

Lily stretched her arms above her head. "Honestly, I think I'd fancy about ten drinks. What are we having?"

"Firewhisky."

"How utterly unoriginal."

"Ah," said Uriah, pointing at her, "but seeing as I nicked it from Slughorn's stash, not only is this daring Firewhisky, it's probably top shelf quality. Not your average Odgen's Old, I'll tell you that."

She sat straight up. "You nicked it from Slughorn?"

"I did."

"What are you, fifteen?"

He laughed. "Possibly. But admit it, you're intrigued."

"Oh…_fine_." Lily stretched out her hand and gestured for him to put the bottle of liquor in her grasp. Uriah handed it over with ease, grinning wickedly, and Lily scanned the label. "Dionysia's Fine Fermented Drinks. You realise this is fifty Galleons per bottle?"

Uriah sat down across from her and conjured two shot glasses. He slid them over to her. "Slughorn won't miss it. It was collecting dust at the back of his cabinet."

She shook her head, fighting a smile. "Your ethics amaze me."

"Well, I _was_ a Gringotts Curse Breaker," he reminded her. "I used to take old and expensive things for a living."

"You're a bit of a bad boy, aren't you?"

"How rude. Curse Breaking is a perfectly respectable profession."

"Right," snorted Lily. "Pour me one."

"As the lady commands."

This, Lily noted as she emptied the shot in one heavy swallow, was quality Firewhisky. Unlike a standard Odgen's Old, which often burned sharply on its way down, this stuff had a warm, pleasant sensation. Heat raced from her throat to her fingertips and toes and had her sighing in contentment.

Uriah raised his empty shot glass to her. "Here's to getting through your first month of teaching."

She returned the gesture. "Here's to your dubious ethics."

"Yeah, this is excellent stuff, isn't it?"

"Is this the first time you've stolen Firewhisky from Slughorn?"

"_Firewhisky?_ Yes."

Lily laughed and Uriah poured them both another shot.

After several minutes of comfortable silence, Lily asked, "You seeing your mum again this weekend?"

"Hm? No, I saw her last weekend. Republic Day, and all."

"Oh." Lily nodded, vaguely remembering something about that in her pre-Hogwarts classes at the local primary school.

"Yeah," he said, nodding along. "Anyway, I've got a mass of homework to go through so I'll be in my office all weekend, sadly. No sunlight for me. I thought I'd at least start the whole affair off with a drink." He gestured to the bottle between them.

She couldn't fault that logic.

"Beyond that," Uriah went on, leaning toward her unexpectedly, "I've been watching you this week and you seem to be in something of a blue mood. I thought you might like to talk."

Lily blinked stupidly. "Have I? Seemed that way, I mean."

"A bit, yeah."

She blinked again. "You've been _watching_ me? Isn't that a bit creepy?"

Uriah sat back in his chair, his cheeks tinted. "I feel obligated to look out for you, alright? As my new, untested colleague…and because, well, I consider you a friend. Sorry if that's too presumptuous—"

"No, no," Lily said over him, getting a bit embarrassed herself. "It's alright. I…I feel the same. And I'm sorry I've made you worry for me…I've just had a lot on my mind."

To break the awkwardness in the room, Lily grabbed the bottle and poured them both shots filled to the brim. She clinked the glasses together before snatching hers off the table and downing it so quickly she exhaled a huge puff of smoke.

Affirming her friendship with Uriah felt strangely intimate, like laying bare a part of herself, and that made her deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the isolation of Hogwarts that made him her only good friend in proximity. There simply was no one else near her age that she could relate to. If things went poorly with Uriah she would, for all intents and purposes, be alone.

Whatever it was, Lily couldn't deny feeling close to Uriah Meadowes despite the short amount of time in which she'd known him.

"Say something," she muttered after a minute of flushed silence.

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Something. And drink your Firewhisky."

Uriah chucked. "Are you my ma?"

"No. Why, does your mother tell you to drink your Firewhisky?"

"She tells me to do quite a lot of things in that tone of voice, sure," he told her, and took his shot gamely. "The bother is that I'm an only child—you know how it is, of course. I've got no one else to bear the brunt of her attention. Never did, growing up. Bless the woman but she is bossy."

_You know how it is, of course_.

Now that stung, though Uriah couldn't have known it would.

"I have a sister," Lily blurted out.

Uriah paused and blinked. "Oh."

"Mm."

"You don't act like you have a sister. Forgive me, I know I don't know you all that well yet, but…" Uriah rubbed his forehead. "I apologise."

"No, it's alright," she said. "We don't talk much. In fact, last month was the first time I'd heard from her in…three years, I suppose. Almost three years."

It was the alcohol in her blood, she realised hazily, that was loosening her tongue. Lily avoided the topic of Petunia just as she avoided the topic of her parents, since they had become one and the same.

"What happened last month?"

"She invited me to her wedding."

Uriah nodded slowly. "Is her husband-to-be nice?"

"I don't know," Lily said, shrugging, and then laughed to cover up the prickling behind her eyes. "I haven't met him. I don't know anything about my sister anymore—I don't know where she lives, what she does for work or…or if she works at all. And I don't know whether her favourite colour is still baby pink, or if she still gardens as a hobby. I'm completely at a loss."

"Wha…" He cleared his throat. "What happened?"

"I was born a witch, she was born a Muggle," she said. Lily poured herself another shot and let it burn down her throat in one overlarge gulp. "Well, that's part of it."

He nodded. "I can see how that would be…challenging."

"And then," Lily said in a burst of resentment she didn't realise was still inside her, "then, this _boy_ in our neighbourhood—this _boy_ who was half-blood, decided to tell me all about who I am, _what_ I am, and terrorized my sister because she was a Muggle. He dropped a _tree branch _on her! With magic! And I was so caught up in the wonder of magic and waiting for my Hogwarts letter that I didn't pay any attention to my sister and she…she _hated_ me because I was different and that difference hurt her.

"And the worst part about it all was that I remained _friends_ with the arsehole until…well, it started to go wrong a long time before, but we stopped being friends in sixth year. All that time, I took his side over my own sister's." She rubbed her eyes to keep tears from leaking out.

"That's why you haven't spoken with her?" Uriah asked delicately.

Lily shook her head, hands still over her eyes. "Oh…that definitely didn't help. But, no, we spoke now and again, even though she hated what I was—hates, I suppose—at Christmas and family holidays and whatnot. But Petunia hasn't spoken to me since I killed our parents."

Uriah was very quiet.

She lowered her hands and stared at them.

Lily hadn't let herself even think about her parents for years. Thinking about it was painful, and if she thought about it Lily believed she would physically break in two, split right down the middle with her insides puddling out.

So instead of letting the thoughts pour out of her in words, she forced herself to say, "I didn't _actually_ kill them. Petunia just thinks so. Or perhaps she doesn't anymore, and that's why I'm invited to her wedding. I have no idea anymore."

Uriah nodded. "It can't hurt to find out. Have you written her?"

"Mm. But I didn't get a reply. Probably because of the owl."

"Owl?"

"Petunia hates owls."

"Oh…" He winced. "Well, that's a problem."

Lily turned her empty shot glass in small rotations on the table, the glass squeaking against the wood.

"She hates me, too. It's not just the owl."

"But she still invited you to her wedding."

"She did."

"Did you accept her invitation?"

"Yes," said Lily. She nodded like a bobble-head doll. "I asked Dumbledore for the day off."

"Going with anyone?"

She blew out a heavy breath. "I'd invited a friend of mine but…"

Gideon's pitying expression crossed her mind, and an unsettlingly familiar numbness seeped into her instead of the anger that had been burning in her all week. She felt so…lonely, even though she'd just seen her friends several days past.

"They said no?"

"He doesn't want me to get the wrong idea about our friendship." Lily huffed out a bitter laugh. "As if a man and a woman can't be friends without some sort of…_honestly_. I've been friends with him for three years, almost, and…"

"Is this the coworker you went on a date with a few weeks past?"

"No, no. This is, er, this is the twin brother of my best friend's boyfriend."

Uriah made a face. "What a mouthful."

She found herself giggling, much to her surprise. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"Well, fuck him, then."

"Fuck him," Lily agreed, and poured more Firewhisky into her glass. She drank this one slower and, once she had finished, said, "Sorry for dropping all this on you. It's the alcohol talking, I think."

"No, I asked," said Uriah. "Don't you be sorry."

"Sorry."

"Oh, you think you're funny, do you?"

Lily shrugged. "I really am, though. Sorry, I mean. I'm not the sort of person to just drop all my shit all at once."

"Sometimes that's good," Uriah said. "I, myself, just dropped some of my shit earlier. It's what we do, as people, generally."

She laughed. It came up from her chest and soothed the hurt that had been lingering outside of her awareness, masked as it was by her irritation. Now that she was laughing instead of on the verge of tears, she suspected Uriah had had this in mind when he stole Slughorn's Firewhisky rather than as a kickstart to his weekend. That was just the sort of nice person he was.

So what if Gideon was acting like an idiot? Lily had never once wanted to date him, not even considering that she was entirely the wrong gender for his interest. And she had loads of other, male friends who didn't suspect her of secretly trying to seduce them—though Lily was confident a majority of them wouldn't complain if she ever did.

No, she was just fine without Gideon if he was going to be a prat, and on her birthday no less.

Uriah reached over and pulled the bottle of Firewhisky to him, pouring himself another shot. Once he had swallowed it, he leaned back in his chair with a sigh and said, "I'll go."

Lily blinked. "What?"

"To your sister's wedding." He rubbed his jaw. "Well, obviously, if you'll have me. I'm not going to bully my way in or anything, but if you'd like my company I'd go with you in a heartbeat. You shouldn't be alone for that."

And then the tears finally came leaking out.

"Oh," she said, touching her cheek when a tear splashed down. "Oh, no. I'm sorry."

"Lily—"

"I'm sorry, I'm not usually like this. It's the Firewhisky."

Uriah looked worried. "No, it's fine—"

"I'm not sad," she told him in an embarrassingly wobbly voice, "I'm just…I'm really grateful. Ugh, this is pathetic. Hang on."

"It's fine, really," he insisted. "You're a woman, you're allowed to cry sometimes."

Lily laughed through a sob. "That's sexist."

"Sure," Uriah said with a nod. "It absolutely is. But you're still allowed to cry."

She forcibly brushed at her eyes until they were dry. "I could kiss you, you know."

Uriah grinned. "Ooh, best not. What if I got the wrong idea about our friendship?"

"You know," said Lily, "I've only known you a month but I really…I'm so glad to know you. I really am. I'm indebted to you. I'd love for you to come with me to the wedding. Bless you, honestly."

"Of course," he said. "Any time."

* * *

_Hope this chapter did a little bit to fill your James cravings! A note for the future: I'll be transferring my stories to ao3 in the next couple of months. I'm not sure if I'll keep posting here as well-if you have any thoughts about this please let me know!_


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